Archive for the ‘Desert Wildflower’ Category
Clear for Landing — Computer Art by kenne
“. . . to the soul,
the most minute details
and the most ordinary activities,
carried out with mindfulness and art,
have an effect far beyond
their apparent insignificance.”
— Thomas Moore
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Beauty is but a flower . . . — Computer Art by kenne
Beauty is but a flower
Which wrinkles will devour;
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;
Dust hath closed Helen’s eye.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
— from In Time of Plague, by Thomas Nashe
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Globemallow Grunge — Computer Painting by kenne
Globemallow art
a wildflower in grunge
dark and in contrast.
Opposite natures
juxtaposition of forms
beauty by contrast.
— kenne
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Wildflower in the Moment — Image by kenne
This is your moment
Your time has come to blossom
Bringing forth beauty.
— kenne
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Bee On a Lyreleaf Jewelflower (March 3, 2016 in Sabino Canyon) — Images by kenne

These vase-shaped buds have pedals giving a tassel effect to the top of each bud,
opening just enough for bees and other pollinators to get inside the bud. This desert
wildflower has a tall slender stem and was photographed near Sabino Creek
in Sabino Canyon.
kenne
“If the bee disappeared off the face of the earth, man would only have four years left to live.”
― Maurice Maeterlinck, The Life of the Bee
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Microseris lindleyi – Lindley’s Silverpuff — Image by kenne
I’m a beautiful
yellow wildflower,
short lived
before becoming a
shiny silvery white,
spherical seed head —
waiting to be
blown away.
— kenne
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Blue Dicks — Image by kenne
blue dicks wildflower
every boy plays with this name
double entendre
— kenne
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Parry Penstemon — Image by kenne
The trail has become a school.
Why was I not surprised?
Sometimes hikers walk without a sound.
The hiker listens, as animals move
in their stillness to go unnoticed.
Just as the cancer entered her body,
unnoticed, without a sound.
Why were we surprised?
— kenne
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Desert Wildflower (Apache Beggarticks) — Grunge Art by kenne
Desert Song
I thirst
for your rivers
your rippling mesas of sand
gold mirrors
on your sinuous curves
I thirst
for the saguaro
for the sweet juice of cactus
in the prickling sweat
of a desert sun
I thirst
for the searing of hot valleys
the bend of shimmer and heat
that bow that arcs the arrow
toward this center, my heart
I thirst
for the bloom, the sweet
languorous smells
this subtle perfume
elusive, as the scuttle of desert life
I thirst
for this tallest, deepest night
of stars and silence
when the moon is only a moon
silvering this light
— Ruth Housman
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