I will look at cliffs and clouds
with quiet eyes,
watch the wind blow down the grass,
and the grass rise.
Wishing you a calm, peaceful holiday weekend.
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
You’re a topsy-turvy,
upside-down eater,
a sleek seeker of seeds,
my little nuthatch friend.
You cling tail up
to the green metal mesh
and poke around
for a sunflower seed,
but you find none
because I failed to fill the feeder.
By the time I bring my bag of seeds,
you have flown.
I unhook your empty pantry and
pour in a waterfall of seeds.
Rushing,
tumbling
sunflower grains,
shiny dark
speckled with white,
they pile up,
a feast for the feathered.
Before I can rehang the feeder,
you dash in
with a flash of wings,
and I freeze.
The feeder dangles from my fingers.
For a moment, you perch,
topsy-turvy, upside-down,
then snatch a snack
and dart away,
wings waving.
Sleek little beak-down clown,
you are brave to come so close.
Did you think I was a flower?
I’m wearing blossom pink—
not my favorite color,
but maybe yours?
Whatever you thought,
your presence was a compliment.
You made my heart glad,
and I thank you.
– kh –
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
A tiny bubble
at the edge of my coffee
reflects my kitchen windows
in miniature,
a visual echo of daylight drifting in
on a cool, rainy day,
a calm take-your-time afternoon.
Peace comes in the wink of a bubble
at the edge
of my coffee
at the edge
of my thoughts
at the edge
of my hopes for the day.
– kh –
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
“We must not, in trying to think about how we can make a big difference, ignore the small daily differences we can make which, over time, add up to big differences that we often cannot foresee.” – Marian Wright Edelman
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
The geese come flying low this morning,
two of them skimming the treetops,
their crawnky call timed with the pulse of
wingbeats:
“Look, look!
Here, here!
Now, now!”
And I do.
Gray-white bellies buoyed by the breeze,
wide wings flapping,
long dark necks stretched out straight,
they’re the picture of persistence,
of determination,
of certainty.
They know where they’re going—
I’m guessing the zoo,
which is not so far if you’re airborne.
They will be guests
at a lucky gathering of geese on the lawn.
They’ll flock and strut and lunch
and gather goose gossip
and rise as a group at sunset,
free to thread their own way
back through the sky
to where they began,
calling,
“Look, look!
Here, here!
Now, now!”
And gone.
– kh –
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week – looking up:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
In the darkest, meanest things
There always, always something sings.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson –
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
One glance out the window was enough
to nudge me
to set aside the tomato I’d been washing.
After a muted day of low-bellied,
slow-drizzle clouds,
the setting sun had broken through
with a gold-green light
that drew me to step outside
into strands of straight-down sun-silvered rain.
And there it was,
as I’d sensed it would be,
arcing big and bright in the east,
bridging north and south on the horizon,
shimmering blue and indigo
vibrant violet,
brilliant green,
decadent red and orange,
bold yellow
in a bow framing the curve of the world
with an embrace of all that is,
a benediction of life
in all its glorious color and variety,
revelry for all the different ways of being,
all kinds of beauty,
all the paths to hope and joy and love
and peace,
sunset beaming through rain
with a parting, glorious gift
that could so easily have gone unseen,
but discovered in a chance glance
out the window.
One glance was enough
to set aside the tomato.
One glance was enough
to discover the prism’d gift
of a sunset in the rain.
– kh –
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
In the realm of inner peace
of deep, cleansing breath,
of heart and hope and holiness
of the spirit’s table set for welcome,
in this realm of inner peace,
the weather is not constant
but ebbs and flows like waves of the sea,
like the drift and rush of wind,
unseen and elusive,
now whispering with joy,
now howling with grief,
weaving each together in a swirl
of uncertainty,
breathing life into our fragile frames,
humming wholeness into our startled hearts,
returning us to the settled sureness
of in-breath and out-breath,
the steady beat of life.
In the realm of inner peace,
of the momentous moment,
ordinary or extraordinary,
witty or wary,
of questions held gingerly,
answers held loosely,
in this realm of inner peace
two rivers flow,
one tumbling incautiously over stones
gray with pain,
one smooth and rippling,
easing its way with glints of courage,
fresh vision,
and quenching calm.
These two rivers often run side by side,
one splashing into the other
before joining and sharing their waters.
We dip cupped hands in and drink
and bathe our spirits in both.
We laugh.
We weep.
We find our own way through the rapids
and into pools of momentary stillness
before we journey on.
For this is the way,
the path,
the course of life.
There is no map.
But listen.
Listen to the wind.
Follow the flow of the two rivers.
For here in this realm,
there is inner peace,
and the table is always spread
for welcome.
– kh –
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
On the way to the kitchen,
two steps past the dining room window,
I pause.
I had barely glanced outside in passing,
having already witnessed the scene of early spring—
hackberries still bare-branched from winter,
the dogwood’s gray limbs holding up leaf buds
like tiny green candle flames,
the rust colored, dried blooms of a rhododendron
that flowered too early and froze back into fall colors.
It was a flash of pink that caught me by surprise.
Pink?
I step back to the window
for a second look.
A newly planted azalea peers back at me,
low and close to the mulched garden
in my neighbor’s yard.
And very pink.
I wasn’t expecting pink.
Winter was so raw,
so kill-the-plants frigid
that I’ve been intent on discovering what survived.
Bit by bit, life was revealing itself—
Lenten roses in holy white,
daffodils and forsythia in sun-kissed yellow,
violets gowned in deep, regal purple,
Nature’s parade of spring fashion.
Yes, these I knew.
These, I had seen.
But now this fancy, frilly pink azalea
waves in the wind and fairly shouts,
“Look at me!”
And, of course, I do,
marveling at the appearance of this cheeky pink plant
flaunting herself,
loud and bright,
proud in my neighbor’s garden,
and worth a second look.
So of course, I do,
and I will,
again and again
until the whole neighborhood
is alive with spring.
– kh –
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.
It’s the first day of Spring.
With a slow stretch,
the sun yawns into the deep, still sea of sky,
softens the clear, cloudless blue,
reddens the top branches of the elms,
slowly slides its smiling light down the trunks.
I watch from my upstairs window.
Oh, Spring, at times
I thought you had forgotten us.
But your name is on the calendar square.
I’ve underlined it.
And here you are!
Warmth is drifting through the air, I think,
anticipating a day without a coat,
maybe even without a sweater.
I’m thinking bluebirds,
white blossoms on the dogwood,
seeds to be planted,
spring-fresh air to breathe.
Then I notice the roof of the first floor
just beneath my window.
The shingles glitter with frost.
I flick my phone to the weather.
Twenty-six degrees.
Twenty-six!
Oh, Winter,
you may be gone,
but in your wake, you’ve left a chill.
Of course you have,
for it’s only
the first day of Spring.
– kh –
Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.
Nature of the week:
Shadow of the Week:
If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.