Archive for the ‘Tanuri Ridge’ Category
Broad-billed Hummingbird at Nector Feeder -- Image by kenne
The feeder swings lightly in morning air.
A hummingbird hovers,
tiny engine of wings and hunger,
pausing just long enough
to remind me that beauty
rarely waits for permission
to be noticed.
Curve-billed Thraster on an Ocotillo limb — Image by kenne
Amber eye watching,
it sings from thorns into light—
morning made audible.
Wild Senna On the Slope Behind Our House — Image by kenne
Sunlit blossoms nod,
each one a small declaration:
I am here, I bloom.
Gila Woodpecker on the Patio Tree — Image by kenne
there he is again—
clinging sideways to the tree
like a bad decision
that won’t let go.
tap-tap-tap—
no rhythm, no apology.
and I laugh,
because that’s life, isn’t it?
just you
and your stubborn little beak
against something harder.
Fiery Skipper Butterfly — Image by kenne
A butterfly no bigger
than a thumbprint
arrives in the yard
carrying sunlight
on its shoulders.
It rests on a flower
as the earth whispers:
Pay attention.
Even the smallest flame
was sent
to remind you
how to live.
— kenne
Cooper’s Hawk in the Patio Olive Tree Near the Bird Feeder– Image by kenne
The feeder is our promise to small lives.
The hawk is the answer we cannot control.
When he drops—swift, inevitable—
the air itself seems to close.
Afterward, the patio is ordinary again,
except for the silence that lingers.
— kenne
Monsoon Rain Clouds as Soon from Our Patio (August) — Image by kenne
Across the wide expanse, the sky darkens,
not with threat but with blessing.
The desert tilts its face upward,
ready to drink the slow blue thunder
of monsoon rain.
— kenne
Duende speaks without permission — Image by kenne
Duende can’t be rehearsed
it blooms suddenly—
dark, luminous, and real,
flooding the room with soul.
— kenne
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vI72kyy2Ius&list=RDvI72kyy2Ius&start_radio=1
Gila Woodpecker — Photo-artistry by kenne
Gila Woodpecker
comes in loud,
like a drunk at noon,
runs the little birds off,
takes what isn’t his—
sweet red from
the humminbird glass.
I don’t blame him.
world’s built that way—
noise wins,
beauty keeps its distance.
still,
I raise my coffee,
to the bastard.
— kenne
Patio Nightlight — Image by kenne
A solar jar sits glowing on the patio,
quiet as a candle,
turning leftover daylight
into a soft evening companion.
— kenne
Smiling Sun On the Wall — Photo-artistry by kenne
At solstice, the shadow holds still,
a perfect exposure.
The wall remembers the sun
not as warmth,
but as form—
enduring, exact, and silent.
— kenne
Home Entrance — Image by kenne
Other Side Of The Rainbow
Standing 360 in the desert
Darkness towards Mexico
Rain in the northern mountains
Whispers of clouds up above
Capturing sun rays
Stage a show over head
Sun lying down in the west
Other side of a rainbow
Bookends to the sky
No longer a secret
Found in tomorrow’s dreams
— kenne
Anna’s Hummingbird, I Think — Image by kenne
Hummingbirds and the Angle of Light
The light deceives—
what was emerald becomes flame,
what was ruby turns to shadow.
You think you see the bird,
but it is the god you glimpse instead—
that quick shimmer between worlds.
They are not creatures of feather alone,
but of transformation,
messengers of the moment
when color forgets its name
and becomes pure presence.
Stand still,
and the air itself begins to sing—
reminding you
that beauty is never the thing seen,
but the seeing.
— kenne
Hose Bib — Image by kenne
Hose Bib Metaphor of Life
there’s a small sadness
in calling the plumber
for something you’d have solved
with half a hangover
and the wrong tools
a few years ago.
but the plumber’s a good guy.
he fixes it quick,
smiles,
says it wasn’t a big deal.
I nod, pay him,
–watch him drive off
with my former life
rattling in the back
of his truck.
— kenne
Bougainvillea Time of The Year — Image by kenne
Every morning now
the bougainvillea glows—
a lantern in daylight.
How does it hold so much pink,
so much flame?
I touch one fallen bract on the ground
and feel the whole season
lean closer, whispering:
remember this brightness.
— kenne
