
Saguaro Family In Sabino Canyon — HDR Image by kenne
Saguaro Family In Sabino Canyon — HDR Image by kenne
Sabino Creek In Sabino Canyon — Art by kenne
— kenne
It’s that time of year for wildflowers along the hiking trails. — kenne
Wildflowers on King Canyon Trail — Images by kenne
(Click On Any Image For Larger View)
A Son’s Dreams (Kenne David Turner Fishing On A Lake Conroe Pier In The Early 1980s) — Image by kenne
— kenne
Cutleaf Evening Primrose from the Spring of 2012 — Image by kenne
Honey Bee Landing On Poppies — Images by kenne
Prickly Pear Cactus — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— kenne
Sunset Art by kenne (2009)
— kenne
Ocotillo Blossom — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— from “Requiem for Sonora” by Richard Shelton
Santa Fe Sculpture (Humankind) — Image by kenne
Mourning Doves Looking For A Nest Building Place — Image by kenne
The poem and music bring back a lot of fond memories.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry Taking chances, writing in different directions.
1- We were naked, we twisted our bodies into a unfinished puzzle and we shared wild dreams.
We talked and we used twisted words.
Did we show real face, did we do, just enough?
………………………………………..
2- We knew the thirst,
we pledged broken promises and I saw broken skin.
I kissed sacred scars and I made you smile.
Was dead midnight and we did the liar’s prayer.
……………………………………………….
Kelli, skin so smoothed, so sweet.
You wanted the moon and I wanted your kiss.
You were wild fire and I was quiet lake.
In dreams, our loved lived and I remember the most beautiful girl, I ever knew.
Dancing Coyote
So true!
the leader
doesn’t know where his followers have gone
he walked too far into the desert
he said too many wrong things
many of his followers died (they were retirement age)
he should have recruited young girls
but it’s too difficult to stimulate them with words
he’s competing with:
vibrators
men who drive BMWs
and TikTok.
It’s time to end this poem.
Looking South from Lower Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
— kenne
Death In The Desert — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“Requien for Sonora”
1
a small child of a wind
stumbles toward me down the arroyo
lost and carrying no light
tearing its sleeves
on thorns of the palo verde
talking to itself
and to the dark shapes it touches
searching for what it has not lost
and will never find
searching
and lonelier
than even I can imagine
the moon sleeps
with her head on the buttocks of a young hill
and you lie before me
under moonlight as if under water
oh my desert
the coolness of your face
2
men are coming inland to you
soon they will make you the last resort
for tourists who have
nowhere else to go
what will become of the coyote
with eyes of topaz
moving silently to his undoing
the ocotillo
flagellant of the wind
the deer climbing with dignity
further into the mountains
the huge delicate saguaro
what will become of those who cannot learn
the terrible knowledge of cities
3
years ago I came to you as a stranger
and have never been worthy
to be called your lover or to speak your name
loveliest
most silent sanctuary
more fragile than forests
more beautiful than water
I am older and uglier
and full of the knowledge
that I do not belong to beauty
and beauty does not belong to me
I have learned to accept
whatever men choose to give me
or whatever they choose to withhold
but oh my desert
yours is the only death I cannot bear
— Richard Shelton