I Want You to Know

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:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.
Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2025. All rights reserved.

Every Drenched Thing

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:


Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2025. All rights reserved.

The Moon was Half

The moon was half tonight,
a white porcelain bowl perched
on a thin shelf of hackberry branches
brushing the night sky.
I wanted to reach out,
to cup it in my palms like
a bowl of soup
or an extra large cocoa.
I wanted to drink from it
a magical sweet moonlight.
Surely it would be smooth,
deliciously moon flavored,
a taste that only those who’ve sipped
the milk of the moon would know.
It would satisfy and warm with wonder,
make the eyes sparkle,
make the smile serene.
A child would notice and ask,
“Why are you so happy?”
and I would answer, “Ah,
it’s because the moon
was half tonight,
and I am full to overflowing.”
–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.

Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2024. All rights reserved.

Why I Need My Garden

 

In the window

above my kitchen sink,

one golden bloom rises on a

toothpick-thin stem

in a tiny pottery vase.

A black-eyed Susan.

I lean closer,

admire her petals,

her dark brown center.

It’s like looking into the smile of God.

Outdoors, pink coneflowers sway

beside magenta coleus leaves

blanket-stitched along the edges

in bright yellow-green.

The smile of God.

Yellow gazania bloom bright,

happily resilient in the heat.

Red-purple impatiens overspread their pot,

preferring the shade.

The smile of God.

I also know the tears of God.

Anyone with eyes to see

and an open heart

feels the sadness,

knows the tears.

So many.

Too many.

That’s why I need my garden—

gazania and impatiens,

cornflower and coleus,

black-eyed Susans.

They remind me

that God does smile.

They give me hope

that we, too—

all shapes, colors, and

types of us—

can flower and flourish

in beauty and peace.

If only we will.

We, too, can be the smile of God.

-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.

‎Text and photos © 2024 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.