Spring Awakening -- Image by kenne
Along the mountain's winding trail,
Spring scatters blossoms on the breeze.
Purple lupines sway and bow,
While golden poppies light the leaves.
The Santa Catalinas glow
In shades of yellow, red, and blue.
Each blossom is a mountain song,
Brief, bright, and forever true.
Flame Skimmer Dragonfly at Sweetwater Wetlands — Image by kenne
Morning light awakens
Flame skimmer patrols the pond
Day begins in gold
Hiking with Friends -- Image by kenne
Through the empty frame
Friends wander beneath blue skies
Past and present meet
The marine blue butterfly wears
its colors like a living watercolor,
drifting between gray and blue
as it dances through the air,
each turn of its wings
creating a new masterpiece of light.
Anna's Hummingbird On Nest -- Image by kenne
A branch, a nest, a bird.
Nothing more is needed.
Spider silk binds the walls,
lichen softens the edges.
The Anna's hummingbird rests there,
breathing with the rhythm of the desert morning.
A Desire to Hike In Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
She was visiting from Eastern Europe
and wanted to see the desert on foot.
Sabino Canyon unfolded before her step by step—
a landscape of stone, cactus, and sky—
while friendship bridged the miles between our worlds.
Image by kenne
A desert sentinel atop a desert giant—
cactus wren and saguaro share the morning.
The artistic background softens the edges of the world,
leaving only the essentials: bird, cactus, sky, and wonder.
Sonoran Sunset -- Image by kenne
The mountains darken, but above them
red, orange, and yellow gather
like old spirits around a fire,
warming the vast desert silence
one final time before night.
Saguaro Sunrise In the Canyon -- Image by kenne
Sabino Canyon at sunrise, stripped to monochrome—
the saguaro becomes an old witness,
arms raised through a hundred dawns,
telling the mountains
that silence is enough.
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.
I’m eighty-five—
though the number sits beside me
more than inside me.
Some mornings I rise feeling sixty,
still curious, still willing to wander.
At night I dream in the language of thirty,
doors still opening, roads still unnamed.
And sometimes—without apology—
seventeen returns, grinning.
Saguaro Morning In Colored Pencil — Image by kenne
The mountains hold the background in cool blues and violets,
while the sunrise burns softly at their edges.
In the foreground, the saguaros stand rooted and calm,
their forms rendered in layered greens and ochres.
The whole image feels suspended
between night and day—
between observation
and memory.
Sonoran Spring Wildflowers — Image by kenne
Dead Nurse Tree at Sunrise — Image by kenne
Greater Earless Lizard in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
