Windows and Wings

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Surfacing from the depths of dream
in the middle of the night,
I find my mind replaying
a difficult day,
rewinding, reminding.
All I want to do is turn over,
return to sleep.
Instead, I walk the edge of wakefulness
wishing to will myself into slumber,
but my mind hums,
will not will itself
to leave life alone for a while.
At last, I ease open my eyes.
There on my night-gray ceiling
are two splashes of light
from my neighbor’s yard,
filtered through my window
and stretching above me,
skewed and angled,
softly crossing
like stylized wings
painted protectively overhead.
Windows have become wings,
and that feels just right,
for windows are wings for me.
By day, by night,
windows set my soul to flight,
open me to the dancing expanse
of wonder and hope
that lies beyond
and beyond the beyond.
My eyes drift closed.
Grateful for windows,
grateful for wings,
I settle once more
into sleep.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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

Dreaming Between Photographs

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I sleep between past and future.
On the wide windowsill to one side of my bed,
a single frame holds black and white photos
of my mom and dad, newlyweds,
shortly after World War II.
On the left, Mom stands at the kitchen sink,
apron over her sweater and skirt,
smiling at the camera while
washing a white enameled pot.
On the right, Dad also smiles at the camera.
He wears a suit and bow tie
and sits at a breakfast table,
a cup of coffee in hand,
a newspaper spread before him.
On the windowsill on the other side of my bed,
a single picture frame holds color school photos
of two of my grandchildren, whose mom is Japanese.
Before Dad died at 95,
he pointed out that in the war,
he joined the Navy to fight the Japanese.
Now, here, decades later,
his granddaughter-in-law was from Japan,
two of his great-grandchildren were half Japanese,
and he dearly loved them all.
Who could have predicted it?
I would say the thought blew his mind.
He would simply laugh softly and say,
“Isn’t that something!”

I sleep between that past and future.
I live between that past and future.
I dream between that past and future,
hoping that someday all of us will see each other
with new, clear, gracious eyes
and that fear and anger over our differences
will dissipate like a fog in the sunlight
and we will see each other
with open hearts,
with wonder,
and softly laugh and say,
“Isn’t that something!”
For it really is something.
It’s peace.
It’s joy.
It’s the mystery and brilliance
of love.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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The Sacrament of Waking

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

In the drift of easing from night dreams

into the gift of a new dawn,

there exists a pause,

a delicious time,

a handful of moments,

the day reborn in peace.

This handful of half-waking minutes

is a carrier,

a courier,

an envoy of the sacred—

a sacrament.

In the fraying fog of waking,

I feel my fragile frame,

my trusting weight generously held,

graciously cradled,

between blanket and bed,

between heaven and earth.

This moment is a silver bowl

holding silent prayers

measured in heartbeats,

whispered in slow, easy breaths.

In a handful of half-awake minutes,

time touches eternity.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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