Archive for the ‘Santa Catalina Mountains’ Tag
The Color of Wet Wood on the Forest Floor — Image by kenne
Once dry, gray branch—
rain darkens the grain.
Color returns
on the forest floor,
for a little while,
the branch blooms again.
Canyon Morning-Glory Grunge Art — Image by kenne
Dust on the petals,
sun in its face—
the flower blooms
without asking permission.
Clouds Above Windy Point — Image by kenne
Windy Point offers a sweeping panorama
that stretches beyond the viewfinder.
We take a picture anyway,
because apparently humans enjoy
reducing impressive things to rectangles.
Arizona Feabane on the Sunrise Trail — Image by kenne
Arizona Feabane trembled in the breeze.
Somewhere above the trail,
the clouds forgot where they were going.
Mt. Lemmon Trail — Image by kenne
On Mt. Lemmon, the forest sheds its color,
and we pause to call the change beautiful.
Each fallen leaf is a small surrender to gravity—
and part of the forest’s larger renewal.
American Snout Butterfly — Image by kenne
Its nose looks improbable.
The flower doesn’t mind.
They have agreed
not to discuss appearances.
Storms Over The Catalinas Viewed from Our Patio — Image by kenne
Storm clouds crowd the Santa Catalinas.
Lightning strikes the ground,
and the desert holds its breath.
Mexican Jay On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
A Mexican Jay
keeps watch from the pine.
Below, we climb
through the blue morning.
One bright eye
above the trail.
The mountain says nothing;
the jay says plenty.
Scarlet Cinquefoil — Image by kenne
Along Sunrise Trail, I stoop
to meet a small red flower.
The mountains rise behind it—
vast, and suddenly far away.
Five bright petals
hold the sun for a moment.
I kneel, then stand,
carrying their red in my eyes.
A Doe In The Canyon — Image by kenne
She eats in the morning shade,
unhurried.
The canyon holds still
around her.
Seven Falls Trail — Image by kenne
The canyon wears
the color of old photographs.
We climb into the quiet.
Echo Azure Butterfly the Bristlehead bloom — Image by kenne
An Echo Azure opens
its blue hush
on the bristlehead bloom.
Along the trail,
a small piece of sky
finds a place to rest.
Bristled blossom,
bright wings—
the morning holds still.
The butterfly lifts.
The flower nods
to the passing light.
Sunset From Blackett’s Ridge Trail (10/11/11) — Image by kenne
I watched the sunset
nestle into the cactus’s embrace
while the shadows climbed
the flanks of the Catalinas.
The desert has little patience
for people in a hurry.
It asks only that you
sit still long enough
to notice what was already there.
Saguaros in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
The black sky rolled across the canyon wall,
throwing long shadows over the saguaros.
For an instant, the desert became a study in contrasts—
dark sky, bright cactus, silence broken only by distant thunder.
No cathedral built by human hands could rival this
rough sanctuary of rock, sky, and living towers.
Butterfly Art by Kenne
The butterfly is only an outline,
a map of a creature
that has already escaped.
The wings are there—
carefully drawn borders,
dark edges,
the architecture of flight.
But the real butterfly
is elsewhere,
moving through sunlight,
uninterested in being captured.
The art remains,
a beautiful absence.
