Pause and Perch

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Now that it’s full-on Spring,
it’s easy to see
what survived Winter’s ice storm
and what did not.
The old elms made it.
The heroic hackberries
and delicate dogwood did not.
Even the sturdy magnolia lost branches
and had to be trimmed back,
and one pine tree is now
only a tall, skinny snag.
Its floppy limbs,
unable to cradle the weight of ice,
snapped off, leaving a bare trunk
with a jagged top jutting toward the sky.
But it makes a perfect perch,
a landing place,
a scenic overlook,
a treetop rest stop
for a feathered flight,
a place to settle and soak up the sun.
The topmost snag in the magnolia
has been claimed by a mockingbird
as a stage for his heart-full songs
chirped at full volume.
I think he is telling me
to pause and perch on the snags,
those places broken by the weight of life
too heavy to hold.
Pause and perch, he says,
what is gone is gone,
but look at all that remains
green and growing.
Pause and perch on the snags
and sing at full volume
your heart-full songs of hope.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – the snag:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.

A World That Says Yes

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Six geese fly east,
warm wind whistles through screens,
trees wave their newborn leaves
greeting Spring.
I sometimes ask
what my word for today is,
not knowing what the day will bring
but making meaning of my time,
perhaps a theme,
a purposeful dream to bring
to the mix of me and the circling seasons.
This morning one word dances
through my head into my heart:
Gratitude.
For a world that says yes
to being reborn,
for joy enough to outbalance sadness,
for beauty enough to outweigh decay,
for life enough to outlast death.
What was invisible in bare Winter
was slowly growing all along,
roots and shoots,
preserved, protected,
patient, persistent,
each day easing toward renewal,
bringing this wisdom, ages old:
Because the seeds have been planted,
there is always, always
the hope of love,
the return of joy,
the presence of peace.
Life feels so fragile,
yet life persists.
There is always a tomorrow
to hold our hopes,
to carry what we care about,
a tomorrow that soon enough
becomes today
when six geese fly east,
warm wind whistles through screens,
and trees wave their newborn leaves.
Hello, says Spring.
Hello, I say.
Thank you.
-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.

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.

Autumn on Tiptoe

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Autumn is tiptoeing in
like a child peeking out from backstage,
wondering, Is it time yet?
Is it my turn?
She is halfway here, halfway hidden.
Most leaves are still on the trees,
still green, but tinted gold
as the billowy canopy thins
a drift of leaves here,
a handful tossed there,
skittering and scattering in the whispery breeze.
The Virginia creeper glows in the setting sun
like brilliant orange-red stained glass.
Seed heads in artsy shapes crown lanky stems—
mounds of prickles on coneflowers,
pagodas of basil,
drupes of berries gathering on the crape myrtle.
But the petunias are still happily blooming,
and the impatiens are being prettily patient.
The early-blooming clematis vine
had decided to bloom again
even as its spent blossoms long ago
turned to fuzzy-headed seed pods
fit for a page in a Dr. Seuss book.
Bright yellow marigolds sway like windflowers
atop thin, overlong stems.
They are always ready to replant themselves
from plump cupped, papery pods
brittle and bursting with seeds.
So hello, Autumn.
Welcome.
The stage is set, and it is indeed your turn,
so dance across, full and free.
And take your time before your final bow.
Make Winter wait.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Backyard Chorus Line

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A tiny chorus line dressed in green,
the daffodils stood,
posture impeccably straight
as they bordered the backyard garden,
their leaves cupping unopened blooms
waiting in place
to begin their bright show
even as chill winds blew
and snow frosted them white.
A friend suggested that I clip one,
bring it indoors,
put it in water.
It will bloom, she said.
So I slipped one into a vase
in the kitchen window.
Up and out it stretched,
a ruffled center on a star of petals,
a new beginning,
a glad greeting,
a promise of spring.
Then, this week,
the backyard chorus line bloomed,
its dancers in yellow,
faces to the sun,
spreading their arms,
nodding their heads,
keeping the promise,
announcing the joy of generous Spring
flinging herself wildly across the land,
bringing life out of dead-looking Winter.
She cheers us on with her extravagance,
her rich kaleidoscope of hope-filled messages.
The squares on the calendar say
that Spring is a few weeks away,
but already I hear her song.
Even now I see her smile.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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The Wonder-Work of Winter

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

We knew it would come—the snow.
It had been forecast for a week.
Still, the child in me cheers
when I wake to the still, soft gray morning
of a snow-covered world.
Every rooftop is a steep hill of white,
sharp edges sculpted smooth.
Snow lines the iron fence railings
and the spiral stairsteps next door.
It outlines tree branches and
rests in plump mounds on flowerpots.
Dollops of snow cream perch on pine branches,
a perfect picture for a holiday card.
Some little creature has left tracks
across the white-carpeted deck—
maybe a ‘possum or racoon.
A branch bobs in a thicket of evergreens
and a plop of snow falls.
The branch bobs again;
out pops a sparrow
who proceeds to make his own
wispy tracks across the yard.
I have sisters whose hearts say,
Let’s go out! Let’s play in the snow,
sled, ski, toss snowballs,
get red-cheeked and cold-nosed
and watch our breath form puffy clouds.
My heart says,
Let’s stay inside wrapped in a warm wool throw.
Let’s enjoy this art gallery of windows.
Isn’t it a joy to be so different,
some of us snow-babies stepping out,
some of us simply snuggling in,
content to watch the wonder-work,
the artistry of Winter.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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At the Tail End of Winter

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Joy is the crocus, who
does not wait for spring
but will push her way up
even through snow
to wake the world.
Fresh and new,
her purple peeks through
undaunted by chill wind,
bright in brown grass,
stretching up as if to say,
“See? Here I am!”
Or rather, “Here we are,”
for she brings sisters with her every year.
They rival the soon-to-come daffodils
and the Lenten roses
to be first to announce
the warm gladness of coming spring
even as the tail end of winter whips by.
Such small blooms,
they can come and go unnoticed.
But for those who watch
for early signs of spring,
the crocus is a generous grace.
She is hope.
She is faithful.
She is bold joy
on a cold day.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Lasting the Winter

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Walking back to my house
from my mailbox,
I always look up
to where treetops touch the sky.
Today, I paused to count nests—
seven in different trees—
tucked high in the elbows of bare branches.
I first noticed them when foliage thinned
and leaves fell last fall.
So far, they’ve survived winter winds
and downpours of ice-chilled rain.
I’ve read that most birds
don’t return to last season’s nest.
They build fresh ones.
But I wonder if these old nests
have been a refuge for birds
caught in a cold winter drizzle.
Each seems an obvious oasis,
an inviting island under a field of clouds.
Or stars.
Or a crisp blue frosty sky.
I will not know if the birds return
to these nests,
for the trees will soon leaf out again,
and the nests will be hidden.

I think of those of us who are nesting,
holding space for family,
for friends.
In breezy, balmy seasons of life,
we’re sheltered and hidden and full.
But when branches are bare
and icy winds howl,
when darkness comes early
and stays late,
it’s then that we can look around and see
that we’re not the only tender woven safe space.
All along, there’s been another nearby,
and another,
and another.
Stay safe, nests and nesters.
Hold life and love and hope.
Stay strong through the winter winds.
Spring will come.
– kh

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Winter’s Brittle Beauty

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I am warm-weather at heart,
loving all things green and growing,
but when bare elms stretch
in latticework across the sky
and pine branches bow to a cold, fresh wind,
when clouds layer softly in shadowed grays,
and dried blooms and crisp leaves stand stiff as straw,
when marigold seed pods dangle on their stalks,
and basil seeds shelter on tiers of miniature pagodas,
when frost dusts shingles,
and smoke rises in lazy curls from a neighbor’s chimney
and the scent of wood smoke drifts through the air,
when a chilly in-breath fills my lungs and clears my head,
then I am grateful for Winter,
for her brittle beauty,
for Nature’s season of rest.
The world seems somehow simpler,
and I am simply grateful.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Around an Unfrozen Pool

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I woke to a world draped in winter white
thicker than a down-filled comforter,
deep enough to swallow my snow boots
up to their necks.
“The fun stuff,” said the weatherman,
perfect for building snow people, snow forts,
and snowballs to launch at them.
It wasn’t our first snow of the season.
The first snow came several weeks ago
in a light layer falling as I drove home.
Sparkles fluttered past the gleam of headlights
as if God were sprinkling glitter over the city
to celebrate Winter.
By the next morning,
snow-glitter veiled roofs and decks,
grass-blades bent, ice-frosted,
brittle petals shivered, frozen.
Robins gathered at my heated birdbath
like office workers around a water cooler.
Feathers fluffed, bellies round as balls,
they chipped and chirped,
dipped their beaks, bobbed up,
eyed each other.
Until a squirrel came to drink.
Then they flew off together,
all but one brave robin who perched on the porch rail,
squinting over his feathered shoulder,
his back to the squirrel.
When at last the squirrel scampered off,
a mockingbird took its place,
then a cedar waxwing found his way,
maybe straying from his flock,
maybe the only one to spy
and wisely fly
to an unfrozen pool.
The squinting robin finally flew,
but probably just to wait in the nearest tree.
Robins share when they have to,
but I think that they think
they own this spot.
And in a world of winter white,
I am content to let them think so.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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