Greater Earless Lizard in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Archive for the ‘Sabino Canyon Recreation Area’ Category
Greater Earless Lizard In Sabino Canyon 1 comment
No ears to catch the wind,
Cocklebur Art 3 comments
Cocklebur Art by kenne
In the wide austerity of the Sonoran Desert
even weeds should have some dignity.
But cockleburs—
they cling, they crowd, they conquer
without grace.
I admire their tenacity,
then curse it,
then carefully walk by.
— kenne
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I Walk Beneath The Saguaros Leave a comment
Early Morning in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Morning spills gold through the canyon.
A cactus lifts its arms
as if remembering a prayer.
I walk beneath it and hear
the quiet voice of Rumi:
The road you walk
is walking you home
— kenne
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Sabino Sunrise 2 comments
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
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Phainopepla 1 comment
Male Phainopepla High in a Mesquite Tree — Image by kenne
The phainopepla sits in the mesquite
like a drop of ink that refused to dry.
My naturalist mentor would say
some creatures are born already knowing
how to keep their shine.
When it lifts,
white flashes beneath its wings—
a secret lining
only shown in motion.
— kenne
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Natures Synbolism Leave a comment
Saguaro Sunrise — Image by kenne
Saguaro cactus at sunrise—
you say endurance,
beauty against all odds.
I see a drunk saint
full of needles
hoarding water like secrets.
The sun bleeds out behind it
without apology.
If there’s a lesson there,
it’s that even the harshest thing
knows how to bloom
when it has to.
— kenne
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Hazy Morning Leave a comment
Hazy Morning Sun In Sabino Canyon — Silhouette Image by kenne
Saguaro cutouts
against a milky sun—
even the shadows
drink their coffee slow
out here.
— kenne
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Good Morning From Sabino Canyon Leave a comment
Good Morning from Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
The day begins
not with noise
but with attention.
Sabino Canyon opens its hands,
and the light settles in—
a blessing
that asks only
to be noticed.
— kenne
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Two Cedar Waxwings 1 comment
Two Cedar Waxwings Resting in A Mesquite — Image by kenne
Two cedar waxwings
sit close on the bare mesquite,
their small bodies sharing the cold.
I watch, and learn again
how companionship survives the season.
— kenne
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Eastern Bluebird Waiting For A Ride 1 comment
Eastern Bluebird — Image by kenne
An eastern bluebird
lost his way to Tucson,
sits on a dead twig
like he’s waiting on a ride
that ain’t coming.
— kenne
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Burrs, The Original Velcro Leave a comment
Burrs, the Original Velcro — Image by kenne
You cling.
Let’s start there.
Not affection—
need.
You grab my sock
as if it owes you something,
as if we were once intimate
and I forgot to call.
I stand still,
arguing silently with a plant
that refuses to let go
without taking a piece of me.
— kenne
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Varied Bunting 2 comments
Varied Bunting on a Mesquite Limb — Image by kenne
He sings from the mesquite,
not for us,
but as if the air itself
needed a name
to keep from vanishing.
— kenne
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Morning In The Canyon 1 comment
Sabino Canyon at Sunrise — Image by kenne
I walk into the new year
as one walks in the desert—
not to conquer,
not to hurry,
but to notice.
By the seventh day
the path is still open,
and I am still learning
to say thank you.
— kenne
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Desert Existenial Moment Leave a comment
Desert Existential Moment — Image by kenne
Thinking is the fever we mistake for health.
We name the world to quiet it,
draw borders around what frightens us.
But fear is faithful—
it returns with every sunrise,
reminding us the map is not the mountain,
and reason only another storm
in the endless desert of being.
— kenne
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Low-water Crossing Leave a comment
One of Several Low-water Crossings in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Low-Water Bridges
There’s a kind of mischief in a low-water bridge.
Looks harmless when the creek’s quiet—
just a flat stretch of concrete
with dragonflies for sentries.
But you wait for the rain.
Then it turns trickster—
swells its belly,
covers the road,
and dares you to guess how deep.
I crossed one at sunrise once,
boots wet,
heart lighter
than it had any right to be.
The creek chuckled under its breath—
as if it knew a thousand fools before me
had tried to outsmart water,
most have failed to win.
— kenne
