“The Town Cryer” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Poetry is read by the lovers of poetry
and heard by some move they coax to the cafe
or the district library for a bifocal reading.
Lovers of poetry may total a million people
on the whole planet. Fewer than the players of skat.
— from “The Instrument” by Les Murray
Old Buildings, Virginia City, Nevada — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Hiking Buddies — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Hiking Buddies
— kenne
Western Sneezeweed Photo-Artistry by kenne
— Shel Silverstein
Hiking Below The Ridge — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Tropical storm rains
On mountains surrounding us —
A moment of green.
— kenne
Puerto Peñasco Sunset — Photo-artistry by kenne
If you sit down at set of sun
And count the acts that you have done,
And, counting, find
One self-denying deed, one word
That eased the heart of him who heard,
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went —
Then you may count that day well spent.
But if, through all the livelong day,
You’ve cheered no heart, by yea or nay —
If, through it all
You’ve nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face–
No act most small
That helped some soul and nothing cost —
Then count that day as worse than lost.
— George Eliot
Horses In the Pasture — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— kenne
