Image by kenne
Life will test you—
with loss,
with longing,
with the long silence
of waiting.
But you are
not meant
to bow forever.
Stand,
even if trembling.
Walk,
even if slowly.
For every forward step
is an act of becoming.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Santa Catalina Mountains’ Tag
Life Will Test You 6 comments
Before The First Snow On The Mountain Leave a comment
An Orange-Capped Mushroom on Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Under a quilt of needles,
it presses upward—
a small insistence
against the coming white silence.
— kenne
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I get it, but I don’t get it 2 comments
Desert Reflection On the Water Above Sabino Dam — Image by kenne
Is life just a reflection of what is real?
I get it, but I don’t get it.
I stride the world silent to others,
yet to you I unfold like a long summer evening.
You know the tides within me,
the rise, the hush, the shifting shore.
What I withhold from the multitudes
I share freely with the one who holds my hand.
— kenne
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Aspen Trail Leave a comment
Aspen Trail on Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
A trail of yellow leaves
threads the aspens—
a quiet path of sunlight
laid gently on the forest floor.
— kenne
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Girl On The Pinnacle Leave a comment
Girl Atop Windy Point Pinnacle — Image by kenne
Windy Point Girl
She’s up there now,
short-shorts and sunlight,
heart beating faster
than the climb.
Wind takes her hair,
makes a banner of it—
victory in a wild language
only mountains understand.
Below, Tucson sprawls,
small as toy houses,
streets like veins
spilling into desert.
She smiles,
pushing back her hair,
as if the world itself
were hers to love,
and for a moment—
I swear it is.
— kenne
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Thurber’s Cinquefoil On Sunset Trail 2 comments
Thurber’s Cinquefoil On Sunset Trail — Image by kenne
Thurber’s cinquefoil glows,
sunset leans on the ridgeline—
silence takes its breath.
— kenne
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Sunrise Over The Catalinas Leave a comment
Magic Marker and Oil Painting — Image by kenne
Sunrise Over the Catalinas
Magic marker lines bleed into oil—
the desert never holds still long enough
to be captured clean.
Cactus spines catch first light,
ocotillo arms rise like prayers
half-drunk on morning air.
The mountains smolder pink and gold,
a slow ignition of everything I love—
wildness, solitude,
the stubborn ache of beauty
that doesn’t give a damn
whether I’m watching or not.
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Close-Up Naturalist 1 comment
Female Green Lynx Spider with Egg Sack — Image by kenne
Close-Up Naturalist
The green lynx works in quick, precise strokes,
her legs a choreography of care.
Thread by thread, she seals the egg sac
like a promise made of silk.
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The Photographer 2 comments
Photo-artistry by kenne
The Photographer
He lifts the camera
as if confessing—
the lens a small mercy
between himself and beauty.
Each click
is a way of saying I see you,
and also I can’t bear to lose you.
In the mountains,
he photographs what he loves,
and what he knows
will never belong to him.
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Golden Stillness 5 comments
Mt. Lemmon Autumn — Image by kenne
Golden Stillness
High on Mt. Lemmon,
the leaves burn gold—
not in dying,
but in remembering their light.
Below, the San Pedro Valley
breathes in silence,
a vast mirror
where the sun learns to meditate.
I feel the boundary dissolve—
between mountain and man,
between seeing and being seen.
The wind passes through me,
whispering:
nothing ends,
it only changes color.
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Little Verdin In A Desert Willow 1 comment
Little Verdin in the Desert Willow by kenne
A tiny pulse of feather—
among the Willow’s green—
the Sky—so dark a Sapphire—
it swallows what is seen—
He flickers—like a secret—
the Morning will not tell—
and leaves the hush of Desert—
more infinite—and still—
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Home Sweet Home Leave a comment
Image by kenne
Autumn Still Life
Multicolored corn dried on the cob,
gourds huddle like friends in conversation—
their skins rough, their colors honest.
We gather, too,
carrying the years in our faces,
the joy in our hearts.
Outside, the wind shifts—
a hush before winter.
For a moment,
everything feels painted
in the same theme:
the harvest,
the stories,
the tender ache
of being here again.
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Fenceline, Mt. Lemmon Leave a comment
Image by kenne
Fenceline, Mt. Lemmon
Yellow leans into the wind,
a soft surrender of summer.
Along the fence,
the season loosens its grip—
beauty, brief
and already leaving.
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Quiet Observation Leave a comment
A Fall Scene On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Leaves, wet and breathing,
circle the small green mind of moss.
From the cliff’s lip,
a drop gathers,
falls—
not a fall at all,
but gravity’s remembering.
— kenne
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Leaves On Aspen Trail 2 comments
Aspen Trail On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Yellow is the hush before the wind,
the trembling song of what must change.
On the Aspen Trail,
each leaf a coin of sunlight spent wisely—
then let go.
— kenne
