The Ebb and Flow of Evensong

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

The sizzling heat of late summer days
seems to slow the flow of time
to a sultry slog.
The sun sets red and gold,
making way for a cooler time of day—
well, technically, a degree or two lower,
but can we truly call it cooler?
Twilight radiates with leftover heat,
and it’s too hot to open the windows.
Even a breeze through the screen
blows hot air.
My windows-open,
listen-to-nature heart
sighs at this season
sealed behind double panes of glass.
But I discover that if I’m quiet and still,
I can hear beyond closed windows.
Night bugs are beginning
their ebb and flow of evensong,
joined by squeaky yips from a chipmunk
somewhere among the trees,
which are now only
bulky, billowy silhouettes
with scalloped and fringed edges
against the rich blue-violet sky.
A bird adds to the chorus with chirps
that sound like a repeated question
asking the chipmunk, What? What?
I think I know the answer to what?
My cat is outdoors,
so the chipmunk’s yip is no doubt
a danger signal to its family and friends
as well as a warning to the cat.
As darkness deepens
and swallows the silhouettes,
my cat comes inside.
Chips and chirps slow,
taper to a stop,
leaving evensong to the insects.
This is a choir you can hear
even though windows are closed.
But I suspect that the heart
must be open.
-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.

What the Chipmunk Told Me

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“Hello, chipmunk,” I said.

The chipmunk blinked,

her cheeks full.

Then she nodded.

“Mmmph.”

And scampered away.

I sat back,

watched her go.

I think she lives

near the neighbor’s drainpipe,

where water whooshes down

from the gutters

in a torrent

when it rains.

I wondered about her then—

is she ever in danger of

being flooded out?

While I was wondering this,

she appeared again,

cocked her head and said,

“I thought you’d never notice.”

“Notice?” I asked.

“I notice you every day

pouching leftover birdseed.”

“I thought you would never

notice enough

to address me.”

She smiled—

I swear she smiled—

“And now that you have,”

she cleared her throat,

“I will tell you

what I think.”

“What?

I leaned closer.

“I think you should worry less

and notice

more.”

-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.

Held Between

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

My sunroom floor turned into

a game board dotted with

grandson-made Lego creations

that moved in ways only he understood

in his game-wise mind,

ways I was trying to comprehend

when I looked out the window and saw

a chipmunk pouching sunflower seeds,

remnants of a refilled birdfeeder.

“Look!” I pointed.

We both paused and watched,

transfixed by this small creature

busy with her daily task.

All the game tension,

the do-I-move-now and how,

ebbed away, leaving

a sense of peace.

We were silent,

entertained—

literally held between—

in a time out,

and once again, I realized:

moments of all-is-well appear

like steady stepping stones

across a rushing brook,

like restful benches

along a hiking trail.

So much peace comes from

stepping across the stones,

resting on the bench,

stopping to watch a chipmunk.

So much peace comes from the

pauses.

-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.

A Pure Stream of Blue

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

chipmunk

The Ebb and Flow of Evensong

What the Chipmunk Told Me

Held Between