Archive for the ‘Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly’ Category
Carillo Trail — Image by kenne
Nearing the Birthday
Soon another year
will place its hand
on my shoulder.
Nothing is wasted.
Pain becomes a record
that I was here long enough
to be marked.
I will not ask
for fewer days of pain.
I will ask
for more moments of noticing—
the hummingbird darting
the chipmont on the ground,
The olive tree’s kindness of shade.
If this is my work now,
I accept it gladly:
to love the world
as it is,
from inside
this aging, faithful body.
Tell me,
what else
would I have been practicing for?
— kenne
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Pipevine Swallowtail On A Thistle — Image by kenne
The swallowtail lands—
a flicker of blue fire
on the rough crown of thistle.
The meadow holds its breath,
each blade of grass
a prayer for stillness.
Beauty, brief and unashamed,
goes on living
without our witness.
— kenne
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Pipevine Swallowtail on Mexican Bird of Paradise — Image by kenne
Pipevine swallowtail,
on bird of paradise flame—
wings of midnight glow.
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Pipevine Swallowtail on Common Lantana Blossom — Image by kenne
Midday heat shimmers—
a flash of velvet and blue
glides through desert light.
Drawn to lantana,
clustered in careless color,
the pipevine hovers.
Wings like falling dusk
sip from the bloom’s orange fire—
grace in full stillness.
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Pipevine Swallowtail — Image by kenne
Blue wings in sunlight—
thistle opens to the day,
stillness full of flight.
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Pipevine Swallowtail On Mt. Lemmon Trail — Image by kenne
The trailhead next to power transformers,
A path next to a chain-linked fence.
Converging rocky paths lined by ferns,
One with vistas of the valley below
The other, with a hill of pines singing, soon
Opening to a grassy meadow of wildflowers.
— kenne
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Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly (Tanuri Ridge) — Image by kenne
“Bring peace to your heart
And wings to your soul.”
— kenne
Pipevine Swallow on a Thistle (Sabino Canyon) — Image by kenne
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Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly On a Mexican Bird of Paradice. — Image by kenne
“When words become unclear,
I shall focus with photographs.
When images become inadequate,
I shall be content with silence.”
— Ansel Adams.
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Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly On Mexican Bird of Paradise — Image by kenne
“There is nothing in a caterpillar
that tells you it’s going to be a butterfly.”
— Buckminster Fuller
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Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly — Images by kenne
my symbol of life
rests on a nearby flower
wings keep on moving
— kenne
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Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly On A Bearded Penstemon — Image by kenne
Thinking about a poem I’ll never write.
With gut on wood and hide, and plucking thumb,
Grope and stutter for the words, invent a tune,
In any tongue, this moment one time true
Be wine or blood of rhythm drives it through—
A leap of words to things and there it stops.
Creating empty caves and tools in shops
And holy domes, and nothing you can name;
The long old chorus blowing underfoot
Makes high wild notes of mountains in the sea.
O Muse, a goddess gone astray
Who warms the cow and makes the wise man sane,
(& even madness gobbles demons down)
Then dance through jewelled trees & lotus crowns
For Narihira’s lover, the crying plover,
For babies grown and childhood homes
And moving, moving, on through scenes and towns
Weep for the crowds of men
Like birds gone south forever.
— from A Stone Garden by Gary Snyder
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Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly — Image by kenne
The Pipevine Swallowtail (Battus philenor) is one of my favorite butterflies common in the Tucson area. It is a
large butterfly with a wingspan of about 3.5 inches. This butterfly ranges throughout the U.S. and Central America.
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Pipevine Swallowtail Abstract — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“There are moments in our lives, there are moments in a day, when we seem to see beyond the usual.
Such are the moments of our greatest happiness. Such are the moments of our greatest wisdom.
If one could but recall his vision by some sort of sign. It was in this hope that the arts were invented.
Sign-posts on the way to what may be. Sign-posts toward greater knowledge.”
— Robert Henri
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Pipevine Swallowtail Butterfly On Thistle — Images by kenne
May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun.
And find your shoulder to light on.
To bring you luck, happiness, and riches.
Today, tomorrow and beyond.
— An Irish Blessing
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Houston Blues Man, Sherman Robinson — Image by kenne
The blues are the roots and the other musics are the fruits.
It’s better keeping the roots alive,
because it means better fruits from now on.
The blues are the roots of all American music.
As long as American music survives, so will the blues.
— Willie Dixon
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