bell tower | Carry the Calm

Dawn today comes soft and cotton-quiet,
spaciously silent but not empty,
brimming with the pulse of simply being,
a sentient serenity
flowing with what is,
buoyant with what could be.
I wonder what sound, what song
will be the first to find its way
into the fullness of this silence.
This morning, it’s the purr of a jet
flying west, fading fast,
followed by the hum of a distant train.
A bird begins chanting on repeat,
five sharp chirps sung again and again.
Now a bright bong of a song
calls out from a bell tower,
eight straight, measured, solemn tones.
I think of a poet I heard last night, who,
after reading her work said,
“Thank you for sharing this space with me.”
I thank the bell in the tower
for sharing this morning space with me.
Thank you, little bird
and distant train.
Thank you, jet flying west.
Thank you for being part of my morning.
Thank you for sharing this space with me.
And of course, there you are reader,
listening in all this time.
Thank you for sharing this space with me.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.

A rainy day,

silver showers,

drips tapping gently on windowpanes,

soft sounds soothe until

chimes ring out the hour

on the campus to the east.

Those chimes.

What a nuisance they were twenty years ago

when the bell tower was built,

ringing every quarter hour—really?

Apparently, measuring time

in fifteen minute intervals

is important. To someone.

I prefer a less metered flow of hours.

Then, sometime in those twenty years,

it happened:

The chimes marking time

faded into the soundtrack of my day.

Now when I notice them,

I wonder—what else has faded?

In the unbounded, wide-ranging time of my mind,

what else ebbs into the background?

The chimes bring me back to the present moment,

to the chorus of birdsong,

the tick of an old clock,

the tink of ice in a glass,

the chip of a chipmunk,

the buzz of insects tucked in the shadows of bushes,

the breeze whispering, “Come back.

Come back to this place.

Come back to this time.

Come back to the chimes.”

They’re ringing again now.

Through silver showers,

a quarter hour

has come

and gone.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – a little visitor:

Shadow of the Week:

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