Trailing Windmill Wildflower — Image by kenne
Trailing windmill blooms,
petals turning with the breeze—
mountain light flickers.
Archive for the ‘Santa Catalina Mountains’ Tag
Trailing Windmill Wildflower 6 comments
Exploring the Rose Lake Trail: A Poetic Journey Leave a comment
Couple Hiking the Rose Lake Trail in the Santa Catalina Mountains — Painting by kenne
On the Rose Lake trail
two figures move together,
their shapes half-folded
into shadow.
The Santa Catalinas rise around them,
granite boulders draped in cloud,
pines whispering in wind.
I paint them in dark colors—
deep greens, muted browns,
the gray of stone after rain—
a palette of weight and hush,
where even their laughter
seems brushed in shadow.
Yet in the distance,
a faint light holds,
a suggestion of water,
a trail bending forward,
a quiet promise
beyond the shadows.
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Tucson Under Monsoon Clouds 1 comment
Monsoon Clouds Over Tucson — Image by kenne
From the curves of Catalina Highway
the valley unfurls—
Tucson lying wide and pale
beyond Thimble Peak,
its stone finger pointing skyward.
Above, monsoon clouds gather,
dark towers rising in silence,
their shadows sliding
across rooftops and washes,
a restless tide of shade.
The desert waits,
heat trembling on the plain,
as light breaks through in bursts,
and the promise of rain
hangs heavy in the air,
a gray curtain poised to fall.
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Little Blue Wildflowers, Birdbill Dayflower Leave a comment
Ed Rawl Photographing Birdbill Dayflowers (08/29/2014) — Image by kenne
I remember those trails with Ed,
the Santa Catalinas rising around us,
their air thin with pine and sun.
He would stop for what others missed—
a flicker of wings,
a lizard in the shadow of stone,
or, this time,
a birdbill dayflower,
its petals a sudden blue flame
against the dust of the path.
Camera lifted,
he leaned close as if in prayer,
framing the fragile bloom
with patient hands.
I stood back,
watching him catch
what the mountain offered—
a moment small and perfect,
saved in light,
rooted in memory.
(Ed Rawl passed away on April 18, 2020, after experiencing a stroke.)
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Arizona Beggarticks Wildflowers 2 comments
Arizona Beggarticks Wildflowers — Image by kenne
In the Sonoran Desert
images wait at every turn—
cactus spines, bird wings,
shadows shifting on stone.
And there, unassuming,
Arizona beggarticks bloom,
small suns at ankle height,
flaring yellow against the sand.
Later, their seeds cling tight,
hitchhikers on pant leg and paw,
a quiet insistence
that the desert travels with you,
wherever you go.
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Chiaroscuro Sky Over The Catalinas Leave a comment
Chiaroscuro Sky Over The Catalinas — Image by kenne
Above the Catalinas,
the sky sharpens into
shadow and flame—a chiaroscuro sky,
each edge cut bold against the light.
The mountains hold their ground,
stone shoulders darkening
beneath the storm’s bright weight.
In this high contrast of heaven and earth,
the desert waits,
every ridge and ravine
alive with the promise of rain.
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Clouds Over The Catalinas 1 comment
Clouds Over The Santa Catalina Mountains Front Range — Image by kenne
Above the Catalinas,
clouds sharpen into shadow and flame—
a chiaroscuro sky,
each edge cut bold against the light.
The mountains hold their ground,
stone shoulders darkening
beneath the storm’s bright weight.
In this high contrast of heaven and earth,
the desert waits,
every ridge and ravine
alive with the promise of rain.
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Sleepy Orange Butterfly 2 comments
Sleepy Orange Butterfly — Image by kenne
Sleepy orange rests,
wings folded in morning hush—
dreaming in orange.
It does not sleep as we do,
yet the meadow knows
its quiet rhythm—
a pause between flights,
a breath held in color,
waiting for the calling.
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Layers Of Pixels Leave a comment
Autumn Plants Down By The Wash — Computer Art by kenne
Layers rise,
a quiet geology of thought,
one over another.
Filters shift the air—
suddenly the world
tilts into a dream.
Even pixels
carry the weight of silence,
carry the hand of the artist.
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Early Autumn On Mt. Lemmon 1 comment
Early Autumn On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Somewhere between reading Rainer Maria Rilke and listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard’s “Drunken Poet’s Dream,”
the following just flowed out — as usual, no rewrite, you get what you see.
THE BODY SLOWS ME DOWN
The body slows me down,
but the blood still flows,
the soul hasn’t slowed
fostering a deep and
necessary intimacy with life.
The body slows me down,
but I count my blessing
without a 60-cycle hum,
freed from habitual
trains of thought.
The body slows me down,
but the poets still, please
with a taste of bittersweet chocolate,
burning through the words
manifested in music.
The body slows me down,
but my mind leads the
way to an enigmatic mystery,
seeking a Rilke Maria’s moment
freed by Ray Wylie’s applause.
The body slows me down,
but I keep running
from the ghosts that
keep on coming
around the bend.
The body slows me down,
but it’s a dividing outline
is no longer there
providing a membrane
between inner and outer worlds.
The body slows me down,
but I can still hum
Polk Salad Sally,
framing cosmic image
descending from invisible heights.
The body slows me down,
but I still use my imagination
to inspire conscious thinking,
allowing “the damn fox
do what a damn fox does.”
“The days I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have really good days.”
— Ray Wylie Hubbard
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Monsoon Clouds Over The Catalinas Leave a comment
Monsoon Clouds Over The Catalinas — Image by kenne
Over the Catalinas,
monsoon clouds rise like mountains
upon the mountain—
rolling, swelling, breaking light
into silver and shadow.
In black and white,
the desert’s colors fall away,
yet the drama deepens:
every ridge sharpened,
every fold of stone
wrapped in the storm’s unfinished script.
The sky is restless charcoal,
the peaks a pale bone line—
between them
the promise of rain,
the hush before thunder speaks.
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Two Queen Butterflies On Mule Fat Blossoms 2 comments
Two queen butterflies on Mule Fat Blossoms (Baccharis salicifolia) in the Santa Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
Two queen butterflies
cling to mule fat’s blooming wands,
orange wings flickering in the breeze.
In the Santa Catalinas,
sun pools between the pines and stones,
and the mountains hold them
like jewels in their crown of sky.
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Raven Out On A Limb 3 comments
Raven Out On A Limb
Raven’s back turned still,
perched on limb in desert light—
holds a silent watch.
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Two Ravens 3 comments
Image by kenne
Two Ravens
Twin shapes on a branch,
one croaks low, the other waits—
wind between their words.
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Angry Raven 6 comments
Photo Artistry by kenne
Angry Raven
Dark flash on the limb—
he jerks, flares, and squawks aloud
like sky has betrayed.
No wind, no rival,
just the weight of summer heat
pressing on black wings.
He scolds the silence,
each cry a sharp-edged protest
hurled at empty air.
Then—sudden stillness.
Even his shadow seems mad,
shaking on the limb.
