song

Once again the moon is full.
From my window, I see her face
bright and beatific,
encircled by a hazy halo.
She looks like she is singing,
so I listen.
I hear only the hum of the air conditioner
and the tick of an old-fashioned clock.
The moon looks full of herself tonight,
satisfied with her song.
Whatever it is, it’s a heart song
felt in the soul.
Surely it’s a traveling song,
a sailing-the-skies song,
a song of the journey,
for the moon is softly sliding,
glowing, gliding sideways across deep space.
I’m surprised at how quickly she drifts
behind the elm,
peeks out through a lace-leafed veil
as if she is shy in the sky.
I turn off my bedside lamp,
and her soft song pours in
in the form of moonglow
across the hardwood floor.
And there she is,
framed in the window,
head tilted in a wondering pose,
her silent lullaby
singing me to sleep.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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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:

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

Once Again, the Moon

Singing Into the Wind