The Dance of the Season

 

It’s the dance of the season,

the frolic of Fall.

Leaves

drift

down.

Pollen freckles the birdbath,

tickles my nose—

a snappy breeze,

an autumn sneeze.

Branches bow,

a leaf breaks loose.

Then another.

And another.

Lifted and swirled,

tossed and twirled,

they join the drift,

the sink and lift on

cool currents of air

that stir them around

and down

to the ground

to scuffle and settle.

All the while, the breeze whispers to leaves

still clinging to branches,

“Come and dance.

Come and dance.”

And they do,

and they will

until branches are bare

and a chill stirs the air.

Then Fall flicks her skirts

and flirts with Winter

who knows this dance well.

She’ll take the lead

flinging flakes of frost

in a waltz with the wind.

But that’s weeks away.

For today, it’s a breeze

and a sneeze

and a timid drift

of golden leaves.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week—moonrise:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Silenced by the Sea in the Wind

 

On a windy day,

if I close my eyes and open my ears,

I live beside the sea,

though this sea is only waves of wind

surging and ebbing,

a rolling surf of air

swishing through pine needles,

washing over elm leaves,

splashing the fronds of bamboo.

It’s the nature of Nature

to echo herself,

the sea in the wind and the wind in the sea.

Or a bird that chirps like a yipping dog

(or perhaps it’s the dog who yips like the bird).

A leaf that echoes the shape of wings,

wings that echo the shape of feathers,

feathers that echo the shape of feelers

on a fancy, flamboyant moth.

Leaves that echo the scent of lemon

or pepper

or cat pee.

But it’s the sea in the sound of the wind

that silences me,

sparks my dreams,

carries me to distant shores,

to time outside of time.

I suspect that this present moment

is itself an echo

of eternity.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Magic of the Ordinary

 

I would say it’s magical—

although it can be explained—

the way the pepper bush hides

within a pale, flat, round seed

snuggled in the warm dirt,

the way it wakes only when it’s ready,

the way it unfurls arrow-shaped leaves,

stretches thin arms to bask in sunshine,

flirts with wind,

revels in rain,

and smiles in small white blooms.

I know this can be explained,

but it seems magical,

the way those blooms shed petals

and take on pale green skin,

the way they curve and grow longer each day,

turning gold,

blushing orange,

deepening to red,

every day ripening

smooth, shiny, plump.

I pluck them free,

split them,

scoop out scores of seeds,

pale, flat, round,

magic,

for inside each

hides a pepper bush ready to emerge

when the time is right.

I dice these plump, ripe peppers,

stir-fry them,

taste their snappy sweetness,

and marvel at the goodness of the garden.

All of this can be explained,

I know.

But I say

it’s magical.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate the seeds of kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Quiet Eyes

 

I will look at cliffs and clouds

with quiet eyes,

watch the wind blow down the grass,

and the grass rise.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Wishing you a calm, peaceful holiday weekend.

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

In The Realm of Inner Peace

 

In the realm of inner peace

of deep, cleansing breath,

of heart and hope and holiness

of the spirit’s table set for welcome,

in this realm of inner peace,

the weather is not constant

but ebbs and flows like waves of the sea,

like the drift and rush of wind,

unseen and elusive,

now whispering with joy,

now howling with grief,

weaving each together in a swirl

of uncertainty,

breathing life into our fragile frames,

humming wholeness into our startled hearts,

returning us to the settled sureness

of in-breath and out-breath,

the steady beat of life.

In the realm of inner peace,

of the momentous moment,

ordinary or extraordinary,

witty or wary,

of questions held gingerly,

answers held loosely,

in this realm of inner peace

two rivers flow,

one tumbling incautiously over stones

gray with pain,

one smooth and rippling,

easing its way with glints of courage,

fresh vision,

and quenching calm.

These two rivers often run side by side,

one splashing into the other

before joining and sharing their waters.

We dip cupped hands in and drink

and bathe our spirits in both.

We laugh.

We weep.

We find our own way through the rapids

and into pools of momentary stillness

before we journey on.

For this is the way,

the path,

the course of life.

There is no map.

But listen.

Listen to the wind.

Follow the flow of the two rivers.

For here in this realm,

there is inner peace,

and the table is always spread

for welcome.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Silent Green Tongues and Blushing Petals

 

The sun peeked out once today.

Clouds barely gave way,

then slipped back across her bright face.

“Our day,” they said.

And, truly, it was.

They cried,

softly, quietly,

leaving tears in droplets

on window screens,

on the silent green tongues of lily leaves,

on the blushing petals of Lenten roses.

The wind sighed.

“It will pass,” she said.

And, truly, it did,

for the clouds moved on

to weep somewhere else,

and the sun smiled.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Winter Garden

 

Before Spring dances in to stay, I offer one more tribute to Winter.

 

The winter garden is skeletal,

stripped to its bark-bones

and skinny stems.

Brown, brittle seed heads

of Black-eyed Susans shiver

at the wind’s cold whisper.

Tattered leaves

of frostbitten Citronella

droop,

dangle,

shudder,

tangle.

A chill gust whips

the dry rust-red cascade

of sleeping Creeping Jenny

into a wide awake, wild dance,

its fronds a frenzy

of airborne ribbons.

Branches of Crape Myrtle sway

like arms with curled fingers

offering pearled brown seed pods

to the winter-blue sky.

If it seems that I’m describing dreariness,

and dearth,

and death,

perhaps I am.

But I mean to paint a graceful picture,

artful wonders formed by frost

and darkness

and biting wind,

paring back the backyard world

to its simple glory,

its skeletal scaffolding,

the elemental beauty

of Nature’s underpainting,

a delicate design

visible only

in this

season.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

And Still They Come

In dark silhouette,

a flock of birds

darts,

swift and low,

across a sky cloaked in clouds of gray

in shades that drift

and slowly shift,

now light,

now dark.

Wind, heavy with weather, quickens.

Air thickens.

Branches wag their fingers at the sky.

And still they come,

scores of birds,

arrows speeding,

reading the signs of the clouds,

believing the whine of the wind.

They look so sure of where they’re going.

Some inborn knowing of nature

sends them racing past the trees,

against the breeze.

Are they seeking shelter?

Outrunning the rain?

Or simply celebrating

wings and wind

and the miracle of uplift

on a fresh tide of air

as rain begins to fall.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Bend with the Wind

 

The higher your structure is to be,

the deeper must be its foundation.

– St. Augustine –

Yesterday I walked with a friend along a trail that circles the lake at Radnor Lake State Park here in Nashville. The trail edges the woods, where at this time of year, gold and red leaves drift down to cover the path like a carpet. At several places, large tree roots jut up and out in a jumble across the path. These great knees and elbows of roots rise and dip and curve and cross. I watch my footing and pick my way through. The woods feel ancient, and it’s a great privilege to see these old roots. I know that the trees have other roots going deep, deep, deep down into the earth. So it feels like these uplifted roots are a bit of a gift, a secret revealed. Grow tall, they say. Dance with the breeze. Bend with the wind. And stay rooted.

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2022 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Good at Slow Dancing

“Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine.”

Matsuo Basho

Five pine trees stand in a line across my back fence. I used to think of them as the skinny kids on the block, but they’re not kids. They were here before I was. So I’m now calling them the five elders. They are thin and as tall as a four-story house. Two of them lean east; the others grow straight up. I think they’re Eastern White Pines or something related. They produce long, scaly cones, and their reddish-brown, rough, furrowed bark holds a sticky resin with that distinct, clean, crisp pine smell. Their thin, feathery needles grow in fan-like groups that wave to me when a breeze blows through. And when the breeze turns into a stiff wind, these five elders are good at slow-dancing.

Go to the pine to learn about the pine. Go to whatever or whoever creates peace to learn about peace. Go to whoever shows kindness to learn about kindness.

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2022 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.