Twenty-seven Degrees

Twenty-seven degrees.
A cardinal is caroling,
bright as a holiday ornament
in the bare branches of the elm tree.
Robins gather in a circle
around the heated birdbath.
I bundle up to go to the grocery store.
I feel rather chipmunkish in my habits,
scurrying out to get food,
hurrying home to halfway hibernate.
I have bought yeast
and flour and eggs and butter.
I have all the cozy ingredients
to bake bread.
And I do.
Fresh baked bread is comfort food,
gives the air a buttery warm smell.
I hold my cold hands
over the open oven door
where the rising heat drifts up and out
like the breath of a hot summer breeze.
Outside, the chilly joy of twenty-seven degrees.
Inside, the warm joy of an open oven door.
-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 © Karyn Henley 2025. All rights reserved.

Morning’s Gift

 

The rising sun traces

outstretched elm branches,

kisses budding tips of topmost twigs

with a warm, bright white glow

like lit candles

honoring this new day.

Wrens and cardinals chip and chirp,

overjoyed with the spreading warmth of sunrise,

with the fresh gold-green fringe of hackberry,

butter yellow buds of forsythia,

delicate white dogwood,

show-off pink azaleas

and whispers of a gentle breeze.

I step outdoors to sit in the sun,

to breathe Spring,

to be witness to silent, stretching leaves,

to birdsong and bloom.

But they need no witness.

It is I who need this,

I who need to witness

their existence,

their persistence,

their extravagance.

It is I who need this hope

of a new day.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week—lily of the valley:

 

Shadow of the Week—A windy downpour left a puddle on a plastic tablecloth and tossed leaves onto it. When the sun came out, the floating leaves cast this shadow:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2022 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.