Archive for the ‘Capturing Nature’s Moment’ Tag
He’s Back Again 1 comment
there he is again—
Caterpiller — Zerene Cesonia 3 comments
Zerene Cesonia Caterpillar — Photo-artistry by kenne
Morning in the desert garden:
a caterpillar clings to its stem,
eating with the steady rhythm
of breath itself.
Even the sun pauses—
as if it knows a butterfly
is practicing.
— kenne
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Hummingbird Morning 2 comments
Anas’s Hummingbird On Our Patio in the Morning Light — Image by kenne
In the early light, the hummingbird pauses in air the way a thought pauses before becoming memory. Its throat flashes pink, then disappears again, as if the bird were deciding which version of itself to show the morning. I stand with my coffee and realize the patio has become a small stage, and this bright creature knows exactly when to arrive.
— kenne
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The Evening Works In Grayscale Leave a comment
Black and White Sunset — Image by kenne
Evening works in grayscale.
The mountains turn honest,
stripped of their bright talk.
The sun lowers itself
behind the ridge—
another shift done,
another mark made clean.
— kenne
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Morning Clouds Leave a comment
Morning Clouds After Overnight Rains — Image by kenne
Clouds resting on ridge.
Ridge resting in clouds.
No coming,
no going—
only this.
— kenne
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Death Happens Leave a comment
Death Happens — Image by kenne
Death happens
the way rain does—
announced by no one,
soaking the afternoon
until even the living
forget when it began.
— kenne
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Cactus Face 1 comment
“Cactus Face” — Image by kenne
Walking past,
I swear it whispered—
not in words
but in that way
a crooked mouth of bark and thorn
can suggest a whole conversation.
I nodded,
pretending I understood.
— kenne
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Exploding Seedpod Leave a comment
Exploding Seedpod on the DeAnza Trail — Image by kenne
Exploding Seedpod — De Anza Trail
Dry wind—
the pod cracks,
a small thunder of life.
Seeds scatter
into dust and sunlight—
each one a prayer
the earth will remember.
— kenne
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Male Cardinal 4 comments
Male Cardinal in a Mesquite Tree — Image by kenne
Cardinal flares bright flame,
mesquite shadows bow around—
sunlight says amen.
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Yellow Butterfly On Bird Of Paradise 2 comments
Cloudless Sulphur Butterfly on A Bird of Paradise — Image by kenne
Yellow butterfly,
its wings flicker
like thighs parting.
The flower trembles,
stamens sticky,
pollen dust falling,
sweet stink of heat.
Butterfly enters the flower,
slow as the insect’s tongue
sliding into nectar.
The air itself
quivers,
a humming body,
a wet mouth,
a raw opening.
Sunlight hard on the skin,
sweat dripping,
everything exposed.
The butterfly lifts—
nothing holy,
nothing profane,
just wings,
just hunger,
just flight.
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Regal Horned Lizard 4 comments
Regal Horned Lizard
Regal Horned Lizard
Some call it horny toad,
a childhood name—
but the desert knows
the weight of its crown.
Spined head,
armor of stone and scale,
it waits in the wash,
a stature of stillness
while ants march toward
the open gate of its mouth.
Patience is its kingdom.
Dust its throne.
Kneel close enough,
and the gold of its eye
shows you the desert
watching back.
Regal Horned Lizard
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Golden Columbine Leave a comment
Golden Columbine — Image by kenne
Late September
You shouldn’t still be here.
The cold has already taken the others.
Frost waits in the dark.
I stop, look at you.
A mistake,
outlasting your season.
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Sunset Painting 2 comments
Pelican At Sunset (Puerto Peñasco) by kenne
Pelican
big bird
ugly as sin
flaps over the shoreline
like it owns the joint.
sun’s going down—
one of those cheap sunsets
people clap for,
like the world did a trick.
but the pelican doesn’t care,
doesn’t slow down,
doesn’t pause for applause.
it just rides the air,
beak heavy,
wings awkward,
perfect anyway—
because it doesn’t try
to be beautiful.
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Telluride Sunset Leave a comment
Telluride Sunset — Image by kenne
Telluride Sunset
The sun drags its golden
behind the mountains,
spilling over rooftops
and the long shadows of people
crossing Main Street.
Boots scuff the pavement,
laughter floats with
the smell of wood smoke.
No hurry, though the light burns low—
each step a pause,
each glance a small rebellion
against time’s insistence.
Somewhere,
a river runs behind the town,
catching the last fire of day.
Somewhere else,
the mountains hold the wind
like an old joke.
And we cross the street,
thinking we are moving forward,
but really just floating
in the golden end of day,
alive to everything
we cannot carry with us.
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Nurse Tree 2 comments
Sabino Canyon Sunrise — Image by kenne
Nurse Tree
The saguaros stand—
green towers,
ribbed and stubborn,
older than fences,
older than men.
At their side
a mesquite stands broken,
once a nurse tree,
a shield from sun and frost,
now driftwood for the wind.
That’s the desert way:
to raise the young,
then vanish—
leaving only the wind,
and the silence
of a job well done.
