dogwoods

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.

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.

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

Caught by Surprise

The Sun Yawned