Brown Pelican Taking Off — Image by kenne
Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Tag
Brown Pelican Leave a comment
There’s a hard-earned lift in him—
Raseate Skimmer Dragonfly 1 comment
Raseate Skimmer Dragonfly — Image by kenne
In motion, it measures motion—
wingbeats, shadows, the slight wrongness
of something closing in.
Eyes like a net of light
cast in all directions.
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Shore Along The Outerbanks Leave a comment
Shore Along the Outerbanks — Image by kenne
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Bee On Lemmon Blossoms 2 comments
Honey Bee on Lemon Blossoms — Image by kenne
The lemon tree breathes light,
each blossom a small lantern,
and the bee moves among them
like a keeper of secrets.
What it takes, it gives—
though not to me, not directly.
Still, I stand in the fragrance
feeling included
in a mystery I do not own.
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A Row Of Mailboxes 3 comments
Mailboxes in a Small New Mexico Town — Image by kenne
Each box is a story painted over rust—
names fading, but never gone.
Abuela still checks hers at sunrise,
like the sun might bring a letter from yesterday.
We are a people of waiting,
of holding onto envelopes like prayers,
addressed to hope.
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Shadows On The Floor 2 comments
— kenne
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McCaws In The Amazon 2 comments
McCaws In The Amazon — Image by kenne
In the vast green breath of the Amazon,
three macaw travel together—
not by chance, but by trust.
The universe does not send
companions without reason.
It teaches us, through them,
how to journey without fear.
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He’s Back Again 1 comment
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.
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Where Were You 5 comments
Image and Poem by kenne
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Chipmonk On Prickly Pear Cactus 1 comment
Chipmunk on Prickly Pear Cactus — Image by kenne
Watch him long enough
and you begin to feel embarrassed—
all our tools, our gloves, our careful distance,
while he leans in bare-faced
to the red fruit of the Prickly Pear Cactus,
accepting risk like the weather.
A better citizen of this place
than most of us passing through.
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Corvette Faffle Leave a comment
Corvette Raffle at Sunset — Image by kenne
The sun lowers behind Tucson,
softening the edges of everything—
even hope.
Tickets crinkle in warm hands,
paper prayers folded small.
The Tucson Greek Festival hums—
music, language, memory—
while the car gleams,
a quiet altar
to chance.
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Bolivian Grandma with Grandchild 6 comments
Bolivian Grandma with Grandchild — Image by kenne
Your bowler hat sits
like a quiet defiance—
not loud, not pleading,
simply present.
The child leans into you,
a question not yet spoken:
Will I have to fight as you did?
You tighten the shawl—
your answer
is warmth.
— kenne
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Rose Lake Leave a comment
Rose Lake in the Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
No fish yet.
Just ripples
counting time.
He listens—
water against water,
nothing wasted.
Line in,
mind out,
both drifting.
— kenne
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Greater Roadrunner 1 comment
Roadrunner On Patio Wall — Image by kenne
There is something mildly suspicious
about the way he freezes mid-stride,
as if someone has pressed pause
on a very small documentary.
Then—click—
he resumes,
like a thought returning
after wandering off
to check on something
it didn’t quite trust.
I imagine his mind full of notes:
check under rock,
avoid hawk,
ignore human with camera.
A tidy philosophy,
really.
— kenne
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They’ll Call It Indecent Leave a comment
Nude On the Deck — Sketch Art by kenne
there’s a strange relief
in having nothing left to hide behind—
no fabric excuses,
no polite disguises.
you feel the air touch everything,
like truth finally got tired of knocking
and kicked the damn door in.
they’ll call it indecent.
hell, they call everything real indecent.
— kenne
