For the Price of a Pause

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Spring tiptoed in during the night.
I didn’t expect her so soon.
Winter may yet wave
a final icy farewell,
but today the air hums with Spring,
and I have paused my plans
to revel in her return,
to wonder at the newborn world.
Daffodils dance in a drowsy flowerbed.
Tiny purple blooms run wild in the grass.
Pear trees show off snowy white blossoms.
Lenten roses raise their faces, blushing.
Above in barely budding trees,
birds chatter and cheer and
sing welcome
as if they’ve been secretly saving,
all winter long,
this exact song
for this exact moment.
The breeze, mild and gusty,
flirts with the flowers,
ruffles the robin’s feathers,
whispers to the bluebird
a hint of rain to come.
I marvel at Nature’s generosity.
For the simple price of a pause,
she pours out to me more than I can hold—
seasonal symphonies of sound and song,
an ever-changing gallery of shifting colors,
shapes and shadows
coming and going and coming again,
all mine to see, to hear,
to hold in my heart,
all for the price of a pause.
-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.

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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I Want You to Know

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I want you to know things can change.
I want to show you joy and peace.
I want to show you the goodness of life,
how an easy smile feels,
how letting go makes way
for the freedom of dancing,
how rain is refreshment
and thunder is a wonder.
I want to knock your fear on the head
and say back off!
I want you to taste apples and grapes
and all tangs of cheeses,
to smell jasmine
and pungent green onions
and fully inhale both.
I want to share with you
the peace of a pause,
the huge-hearted hug of hope,
the delight of simply being.
I want you to know things can change.
-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 2025. All rights reserved.

Singing Into the Wind

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Sitting here in my sunroom,
I watch the storm move in.
Daylight dims.
The sunroom becomes a room of shadows
as a vanguard of wind shushes the world,
scatters the leaves of hackberry and elm,
rocks the pines,
sways the autumn-bright marigolds
and the delicate, thin-stemmed coral bells,
which chime, I imagine, as they sway,
sweetly singing to ears keener than mine.
Soon they will settle into a quiet sleep,
for this storm brings our first bite of winter.
Already the wind carries a cold edge,
its tide rushing in, easing back,
rushing in again.
My cat creeps to the window,
peers out into the gusty gray,
ears pricked,
catching the chatter of birds,
the rumor of rain.
A cardinal’s steady chip-chip-chip
calmly tells us all is well,
this storm is simply the bluster of nature,
a power surge that will blow itself out,
leaving behind drips, drops, puddles,
and nippy whispers of winter.
Holy is this moment
on the charged edge of change.
I think of stepping out into the cooling air,
opening my arms wide,
looking to the sky,
and singing my own song into the wind,
into the wild
to ride its currents over the rooftops,
over the fields,
to the next town,
the next county,
the next mountain range,
on and on and out to sea,
birdsong, coral bell song, my song,
rippling out to the whole wide world.
The storm, the storm
is coming.
The storm, the storm
will blow itself out,
and we will be here,
singing our song into the sky.
-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 2025. All rights reserved.

Every Drenched Thing

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Every drenched thing bows to the rain—
branches weighed down with water,
marigolds sated and soggy,
lilies drooping and dripping.
This is not a cool, crisp perk-me-up rain
but a bucket dump so heavy
that it will leave a sultry, thick wet blanket
lazing on the lawn,
steaming the garden.
As the downpour eases to a steady silver shower,
clouds drift apart,
sunlight elbows through,
I scan the sky expectantly,
hopefully…
and I am not disappointed.
Against a billowed backdrop
of blue-gray clouds,
a veil of color gently curves,
gift of rain and sun,
sign of hope,
smile of God,
heaven’s arms holding space,
sharing the secret that all light holds:
a glorious variety of hues,
reminder of the glorious variety of humans,
of plants, animals,
rocks, rivers,
skies, seas.
I can’t help but smile and hope,
for on the other side of the rain
there is a luminous bridge,
arcing in a joyful embrace of us all.
On the other side of the rain
is a rainbow.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

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Other Places, Other Times, and a Gentle Rain

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

The rain did not blow in
the way it often does.
It came straight down
in threads of silver barely visible
against the backdrop of trees.
But I can hear the gentle wash of it
like a stream running over rocks.
It matches my mood—
serene, soft, pensive,
at the shallow end of sadness.
A nuthatch flits from the feeder,
skims across the roof of the garage,
disappears into dark green undergrowth.
My cat is antsy, pacing.
It’s not a day to go out,
which bothers the cat
but suits me just fine.
A breeze drifts through open windows,
and thoughts of other places,
other times
that once stormed through my memory
now shower slowly down with the rain.
My heart is full and grateful—
grateful for the past,
grateful that it’s long gone,
grateful that I can gladly let it go.
A lazy rumble of thunder rolls in.
The cat runs,
but this deepest growl of the clouds,
this sharpest bite,
fades to silence
along with those deepest, sharpest memories.
I close my eyes,
lean back and listen
to the chorus of hopeful birdsong
that circles through
the showering rain.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

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From the Scent of an Iris

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I sniffed an iris today,
one of those big, bearded ones,
gold with a splash of red wine.
At my mailbox, I bent down,
touched my nose to
cool,
curved,
smooth,
silky petals,
and inhaled its heart-scent.
I knew what it held,
what it always holds—
my childhood,
at least part of it.
The fragrance sent me time-traveling
back to a long ago garden,
a wide triangle edged in gray cinder block
in a West Texas back yard.
The whole flower bed was filled
with irises,
the deep purple bearded kind,
filling the air with perfume.
The rushing wind,
always in a hurry to get somewhere,
made the irises dance.
And when the wind brought rain,
the drops drummed wild music
on the corrugated fiberglass porch roof
that covered the concrete patio where,
on sunnier days,
I sometimes twirled
in my sky blue parachute dress,
which I named for the way
the full skirt swirled when I twirled.
As I turn back to my mailbox,
I am awed and grateful
that this one iris
so gently holds me in its
cool,
curved,
smooth,
silky petals.
My memories are cradled
in the scent
of an iris.
-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 2025. All rights reserved.

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:

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Playful Day

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Dawn came layered in clouds this morning,
a parfait of light and shade,
pale peach and pale blue
turning lavender as I watched.
Out of the layer of peach,
a glow brightened, bloomed,
sparkled out—
the sun bubbled up,
a happy round lemon.
Those who know,
who foretell such things,
say that this will be our day,
an interplay of cloud and sun,
a mix of light and shade,
until the day tires of play,
leaving a mountainous cloudscape
in the west,
which will flatten, crestfallen
into a field of darkening gray.
The wind will sigh, strong and gusty,
and the playful day
will settle
into an evening
of rain.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Splashes in the Birdbath

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Rain has come at last,

a slow, soil-soaking rain

welcomed by wilting asters

drooping marigolds

and me.

Each droplet dimples

the water in the birdbath,

each splash makes small-bird waves

that ripple out and overlap the others.

Another ripple, unseen but real,

touches and tugs me today,

a ripple of friends

who gathered last night,

an assortment of artists

soul-touched by

the grace of nonjudgment,

the freedom to discover

the art in ourselves,

to discover ourselves in our art.

A first splash rippled out years ago,

found us, overlapped us,

sent our own ripples circling wider.

Everyone washes the world

in waves that widen and overlap.

May our waves be full of

goodness and grace

to restore,

to renew hope,

to refresh

our thirsty world.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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