Pincushion Cactus Art — By kenne
I have walked on these trails
a hundred times
and frequently do not notice
the little cactus flowering
beside the trail.
Today I stop.
The mountains are still mountains.
Monsoon rains have added water
to the normally dry wash.
The sun is already warming
the canyon walls.
But something has changed.
Not the desert.
My attention.
And perhaps that is
one of the quiet gifts
a place can give us—
to make us look again.
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.
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.
Dead Nurse Tree at Sunrise — Image by kenne
Greater Earless Lizard in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Anna’s Hummingbird — Image by kenne
Cocklebur Art by kenne
— kenne
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
Bluebird Preening on a Limb — Image by kenne
— kenne
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
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
Wildflowers In The Catalina Foothills — Image by kenne
Catalina foothills—
poppies flare in the gravel wash,
lupine stitching nitrogen
back into the lean soil.
Rock, root, bee—
no wasted motion.
Wind off the Santa Catalinas
combs the grass
and the flowers bow
without complaint.
— kenne
Two Cedar Waxwings Resting in A Mesquite — Image by kenne
— kenne
Eastern Bluebird — Image by kenne
— kenne
