I Wonder About Dogs

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

From windows beside my desk,
my second-story perch,
I watch the weather change,
see the seasons come and go.
Another new year is on the way,
and I wonder what lies ahead.
But today sparkles with sunlight
defining sharp angles of rooftops
into bright brown triangles,
shaded rhombus shapes,
shingles hatched with pine tree shadows.
One garage roof slopes at a perfect slant
to show a snippet of the street beyond,
a few feet at most,
just enough to watch a small dog trot past,
in and out of frame.
A few seconds later, her human enters the scene
strides across, soon out of sight.
Before long, a larger dog ambles by,
followed by another dog-lover.
Then another dog and his person stroll past.
It looks to be a delightful dog-walking day.
(But I have a cat, and an old one at that.
I will not be walking my cat
no matter how glorious the weather.)
I wonder if the dogs know where they’re going.
I wonder if their walkers know.
I’ve been told that, unlike cats,
who attach to place,
dogs attach to people.
Dogs may not know where they’re going,
but they know who they’re going with,
so I imagine they’re quite happy
to be out and about.
As I head toward a new year,
as much as I’d like to tunnel
under the covers like a cat,
I’m facing the future more like a dog.
I don’t know where I’m going,
but I do know who I’m going with,
and that’s what really matters.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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From the Hospital Window

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I stand at the wide glass window.
Behind me, my son sleeps
in a hospital bed.
My son will be fine—
I am confident of that—
but at the moment,
he is not fine,
so I am not fine either.
I hurt at his pain;
my heart cracks with his cries;
I pray when he hasn’t the will
or the faith
to pray.
This present moment,
the Now
is supposed to be a time and place
of meditation and peace.
But this Now, this present moment
bites me.
I look out this wide window
across buildings and treetops.
I see beyond this moment of pain
that curls him inward,
calls all his attention
to a deep
abyss,
and I think even God must cry
at least a little bit every day,
for there’s so much to cry about.
I take a deep breath of treetop and sky
and determine to be a source of peace
for my son
just as friends who text me
are a source of peace for me.
This peace connects us
like an invisible, strong thread,
stitching up our cracked hearts
with every color
warm and cool,
joyful and sad,
sometimes glinting with our tears
and God’s too.
-kh-