Early Birds

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Birdsong begins in my yard at 3:45.
In the morning.
The birds remind me of this fact
when I sleep with windows open.
Night bugs have hummed me to sleep,
birdsong greets me when I wake—
or when it wakes me
in the wee hours.
This morning,
a mockingbird on some nearby perch
commenced his concert at 4:00.
He ran through his repertoire
interspersing chirps and chirrs
with fancy fluting phrases
rising and dipping and dancing.
But it’s early.
I glance at my clock.
Very early.
Are these birds singing in their sleep?
Or summoning the sunrise?
Or maybe the first hint of dawn
is already drifting into the sky
and summoning them.
If the early bird catches the worm,
these warblers will be well-fed.
Maybe this is their prayer before breakfast.
Maybe they are singing in pure joy
at the bounty, the beauty, the blessing
of simply being,
being a flying, perching, singing soul
here to see the sun circle
one more day.
I lie back, pillowed and peaceful,
listening and grateful.
As the mockingbird’s melodies
melt into morning,
I let him sing me back to sleep.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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The Twin Suns

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Early morning sun rays drift through fog,
shy of the sky today,
sleepily sweeping aside the filmy veil
to make way for the day
and wash it with light.
Warm sunbeams now angle through east windows
and wander out the west
only to bounce back in,
mirrored from my neighbor’s window
in a perfect round reflection.
It looks like the sun has stopped
to rest in their kitchen.
The light from these twin suns, east and west,
meet at my double-paned windows,
play off each other,
splash reflections across the glass
in geometric patterns—
scooped-topped squares,
skewed rectangles,
swooping ribbons,
sword-straight lines.
There are reflections of shadows
and shadows of reflections.
Both are close kin.
Both are the artistry of light.
Both are shifting shapes,
fascinating, frivolous,
flirting, fleeting.
Quick! Look!
Here I am.
Hello!
Farewell.
Here and gone,
this one moment of golden glory,
has left its reflection in my heart,
has poured its light into my soul,
has wrapped its bright arms
around my inner shadow
like Love itself.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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What Song Will Be First?

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

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.

Fog

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

(Today we have snow. Tomorrow ice. But a couple of days ago…)

A sweet sparrow-song wakes me this morning,
a tumble of bell-tones,
a liquid waterfall of notes
echoed somewhere in the distance
by a fellow sparrow singing in answer,
“Good morning, good morning.”
And what a gentle good morning it is.
A feather-soft cloud of fog
has silently settled
on us,
with us,
around us.
Nature has drawn a shawl of whispery mist
across her shoulders,
turning stoic trees into
shy, wispy silhouettes
barely visible through the veil of silver-white.
The rays of the rising sun scatter
through droplets of drifting cloud,
spreading a soft glow
that gradually brightens and lightens,
easing the silver of dawn into
a golden pink, cloud-hugged morning.
The sunlight is insistent,
though today it has to swim in,
but little by little, trees become more distinct.
Roofs emerge.
Just as quietly as it descended,
the fog lifts.
Nature sheds her shawl.
Still and soft,
the day opens.
A sweet sparrow-song,
a tumble of bell-tones,
liquid waterfall of notes
echoes somewhere in the distance.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Following the Fingerprints

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A morning shower has cocooned us
in clouds of soft silver gray,
embroidering our window screens
with seed pearls of glinting, dewy
droplets.
I am warming myself with hot coffee,
not in my usual smoothly curved,
factory-fashioned white cup
but in a handmade pottery mug
ringed by ridges
formed by the potter’s fingers
deftly pinching and pulling the clay
as it whirled on a wheel somewhere.
This mug is glazed shiny brown on the outside,
light pink-lavender within,
though the pink is now halfway hidden
by steaming coffee.
As I sip, I notice the potter’s thumbprint,
a dip pressed with purpose
exactly at the point
where the handle meets the mug’s rim,
a place where my thumb also rests
to hold the mug.
It’s a tiny, thoughtful gift
from someone I’ll never meet.
My right hand fingers hug the handle,
and my thumb rests in the thumbprint.
My left-hand fingers curve around the mug,
finding and following the fingerprints of the potter.
As I hold this mug,
I hold the potter’s hand, and
even though I’ll never know the potter,
I feel a genuine gesture of generosity,
a connection of kindness,
of comfort,
of kinship.
I’m grateful for this unknown potter
whose presence in this present moment
is bringing warmth and goodness
to the start of a soft,
silver gray day.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Spring Storm Symphony

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A river of storm-strong air,
cool and damp,
poured through my open window,
and swept across my bed,
a stream of fresh silver morning
filled with whispers of rain to come,
this news confirmed moments later
by the timpani of the heavens,
a deep-throated drumroll of thunder,
or as we used to say,
angels bowling
or God’s voice rumbling,
“I am here, I am near.”
Then in one delicious moment,
the innocent-looking layer of clouds
releases a world-class waterfall.
It’s a symphony of storm—
wind, thunder, rain—
in a rushing cascade,
a wet, splashing tumble of spring
with surprise guest artists
singing through the storm:
a chorus of birds.
Each time the rain and wind diminish,
the birds crescendo.
Their whistles, chirps, and chortles
sound like celebration,
like gratitude,
like sweet contentment,
like aren’t you glad to be right here,
right now,
refreshed
on this splendid silver morning?
Yes, beautiful symphony.
Yes.
I am.
– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Perching on my Roof

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I have a mockingbird—

for how long, I don’t know;

he is free to come and go

but, for now, perches on my roof

outside my window

running through his repertoire

in all the bird-languages,

as if he has decided one song

is not enough to express

his ecstatic heart,

so he weaves tunes end to end,

high and low,

lilting and liquid,

warbled and chirped,

a celebration of sound

dancing through my open window,

waking me to this one day.

Tomorrow, he may be on another roof,

regaling no one in particular,

for he needs no audience,

he would sing at the top of his little lungs

even if no one was listening.

But today, I am listening,

pausing in the early stillness

to hear this songster

dressed in stately gray,

serenading my morning

with flowing melodies

flung freely into the breeze.

Whatever the day may bring,

my mockingbird has already

sung the sweetness into my world.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – my azaleas are blooming again:

Shadow of the week:

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Morning Gold, Silent as Breath

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

She is such an artist, the sun.

I watched her rise today,

a brilliant yellow-orange backdrop

to the dark green silhouette

of the neighbors’ bamboo.

Her morning gold, silent as breath,

spreads wide,

slides between cane and leaf,

creates a shape-shifting mosaic,

light and dark,

shadow and shine.

She shoulders higher up the sky

with wise warmth,

quietly whitening thin-stretched clouds

feathered across the high, icy blue.

She is just getting started,

for the whole world is her canvas,

and she takes her time,

for she has all the time in the world.

Her fluid beauty ebbs and flows

as shade and light flirt,

drift,

slow dance,

weaving magic into the day,

sparking autumn-touched treetops

into gold and copper leaf-flames.

She is angling now to give us

her brightest and best

even as the days shorten and cool.

I will watch her paint this day.

I will watch her dance with shadow.

And maybe I, too,

will dance.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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For a Day Born New

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Good morning, bird,

perched

somewhere outside my open window.

The breeze is carrying your tune

to my drowsy, waking ears.

How long have you been singing

your wake-up song?

Are you a bluebird?

A wren?

A cardinal?

I am not attuned to the differences—

not yet.

No matter.

You are a consummate singer

of carefree song,

melody for a day born new.

The gift of your music

invites me to rise

and breathe deeply of dawn.

Perhaps I, too, will sing.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Waking to Snow

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Waking to snow,

deep quiet,

feathered flakes,

whispers of wind,

and no one going anywhere.

Time pauses,

takes a break.

Why was I rushing around

all these days past?

What was the hurry, the worry?

Plans have now shifted,

busy has been put on hold.

My old clock softly ticks,

keeping time.

Really, dear clock?

Keeping time?

You keep it only long enough to measure its

passing,

and before you can tick again, it’s

gone.

And yet, this morning,

time is asking to be kept,

held,

witnessed

in this white cocoon,

this quiet tiptoe of a morning

waking to snow.

–kh–

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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