Sabino Sunrise — Image by kenne
Dawn spills over the mountains
and the giants wake.
Their shadows stretch like old cowboys
after a long night.
No hurry.
No apology.
Just another day
outlasting us all.
— kenne
Sabino Sunrise 1 comment
Hummingbird Morning 2 comments
Anas’s Hummingbird On Our Patio in the Morning Light — Image by kenne
In the early light, the hummingbird pauses in air the way a thought pauses before becoming memory. Its throat flashes pink, then disappears again, as if the bird were deciding which version of itself to show the morning. I stand with my coffee and realize the patio has become a small stage, and this bright creature knows exactly when to arrive.
— kenne
Share this:
Moon Over The Double Bayou Leave a comment
Moon Over The Double Bayou — Image by kenne
Moon over the bayou—
cypress knees listening
to slow water.
Somewhere, a night bird
knows the old stories
and keeps them.
Couples turning slowly
under crooked rafters.
Pete Mayes’ band doesn’t rush—
blues knows better.
Every chord says
the night’s still young
if your heart
can hold the rhythm.
— kenne
A Night At The Dance Hall — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Share this:
They Arrive Without Announcement 2 comments
Cedar Waxwings Arrive Without Announcement — Image by kenne
Soft crests,
yellow-tipped tails—
a small northern fire.
We host them briefly.
The desert offers fruit,
water,
a resting branch.
Hospitality is an old law.
— kenne
Share this:
Cactus Art 2 comments
Cactus Art Image by kenne
A slight shift of angle—
the needles ignite.
So it is with the soul:
what guards the heart
can also shine.
— kenne
Share this:
A Sonoran Morning Leave a comment
A Sonoran Morning — Image by kenne
Bright sunlight, black tower, white sky.
The blades carve the morning into pieces.
Somewhere a tank fills,
somewhere a man believes
he has mastered this land.
But the wind owns the rhythm,
and the desert keeps the final say.
— kenne
Share this:
Soaptree Yacca Leave a comment
Soaptree Yacca — Image by kenne
Wind scrapes the flats raw.
The yucca holds its green knives
close to the bone of earth.
Bloom is rare.
That’s the point.
In this place
beauty is earned slowly.
— kenne
Share this:
Bee On Goldeneye Wildflower 2 comments
Bee On Goldeneye Wildflower — Image by kenne
Spring in the Sonoran—
a bee dives into Goldeneye,
pollen dusting its legs
like barrio chalk
on Sunday shoes.
Work is prayer here.
Work is survival.
— kenne
Share this:
Storm Clouds Over the Mountains 2 comments
Storm Clouds Over The Mountains — Image by kenne
Thunder far away
like a drum
warming up.
The desert waits—
patient as stone—
for the first drop
to strike the dust
and turn it
into hope.
— kenne
Share this:
Acorn Radicle 2 comments
Acorn Radicle — Image by kenne
Still clinging to its mother branch,
the acorn refuses good manners.
It should wait. The branch says, stay.
The wind says, soon. The acorn says, now.
So it splits its dark shell
sending a pale root nosing into open air—
a small act of rebellion against gravity,
a white question mark lowered into nothing.
In harsh country
you don’t wait for perfect ground.
You start the root before the fall.
You trust the dirt you haven’t met yet.
That’s how deserts are made—
not from patience,
but from something stubborn
refusing to postpone its life.
— kenne
Share this:
Tunuri Ridge Sunset Leave a comment
Tanuri Ridge Sunset — Image by kenne
A sunset with thin,
trembling clouds—
the universe painting
without hurry.
Stand still long enough,
and you will feel chosen.
— kenne
Share this:
Still Fierce Grit Within Our Hearts 1 comment
Kenne and Joy on the Road — Image by kenne
O let the world its trials send,
Its grinding wheels, its piercing darts;
We shall not yield, we shall not bend—
There’s still fierce grit within our hearts.
— kenne
Share this:
Delicate Arch: A Name More Perception Than Reality Leave a comment
Originally named “The Chaps,” however, in 1934, during a scientific expedition
through what is now Arches National Park, the research party referred to it as
“Delicate Arch.” — Image by kenne (June 12, 2014)
Delicate Arch stands alone,
wearing its red sandstone chaps,
bow-legged against the wind.
No saddle, no rider—
just sky for company
and a long trail of light
riding out west.
— kenne
Share this:
Birdbill Dayflower 2 comments
Birdbill Dayflower — Image by kenne
In the high canyons
of the Santa Catalinas,
the Birdbill Dayflower
blooms testing the theory:
that beauty
need not last
to matter.
By dusk, it has folded
its argument into seed.
— kenne
Share this:
In Honor of Georgia O’Keeffe Leave a comment
Golden Columbine — Image by kenne
On black
the gold grows louder.
Each curve deliberate,
each throat of light
a doorway inward.
Look long enough
and the flower
becomes landscape.
— kenne
