Computer Art by kenne
The giant saguaros rise
from the computer screen
as they rise from the desert—
arms lifted,
silent and patient,
older than memory.
Pixels become shadows,
shadows become living forms.
The Sonoran Desert appears
not as a landscape,
but as a gathering
of ancient relatives
standing watch beneath the sky.
Shades of Red Sunset — Image by kenne
A red sunset
rests upon Tucson
like a hand
on an old friend’s shoulder.
The mountains listen.
The ocotillo stands still.
Even the wind
seems content to wait.
Then slowly,
almost tenderly,
the color fades,
leaving the desert
richer for having held it.
Image by kenne
The sun descends behind
the western mountains,
yet leaves behind
a kingdom of light.
Clouds become banners
of gold and scarlet.
The desert floor glows softly,
as though illuminated
from within.
Not just another sunset—
but a Tucson evening,
where earth and sky
exchange their vows once more
before the coming night.
What the Desert Keeps — Image by kenne
Tonight the desert is orange
from mountain ridge to wash,
as though the day
had broken open
and spilled its last handful of gold.
The creosote keeps its dark leaves.
The saguaro keeps its scars.
The old cottonwood keeps its shadow.
Nothing asks to be rescued.
The land has learned
what we are slow to learn:
to receive the light,
to give it back,
and to remain.
Sandhill Cranes Migrating North From Southern Arizona (February 2026) — Image by kenne
Eastern Arizona Sky
White Mountains
far beyond sight.
The birds know.
Across the broad sky
their voices stitch
one season
to another.
No ceremony.
Just wings,
breath,
and the long road
of air.
An Old Bunkhouse Near an Abandoned San Simon Valley Livestock Corral — Image by kenne
The old bunkhouse stands in quiet witness beside the abandoned corral,
its weathered boards holding stories of cattle drives, dust storms,
and long days beneath an unforgiving Arizona sky.
Once surrounded by rich grasslands stretching across the San Simon Valley,
it belonged to a landscape that sustained both livestock and the people who depended on them.
Today, the fading structure reminds us how quickly the land and its history can change,
while the Peloncillo Mountains continue their timeless watch over the valley.
Spring Awakening -- Image by kenne
Along the mountain's winding trail,
Spring scatters blossoms on the breeze.
Purple lupines sway and bow,
While golden poppies light the leaves.
The Santa Catalinas glow
In shades of yellow, red, and blue.
Each blossom is a mountain song,
Brief, bright, and forever true.
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.
Sonoran Sunset -- Image by kenne
The mountains darken, but above them
red, orange, and yellow gather
like old spirits around a fire,
warming the vast desert silence
one final time before night.
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!
Sonoran Spring Wildflowers — Image by kenne
Hiking into the Morning Sun — Image by kenne
Red-tailed Hawk Over Tucson Skies — Image by kenne
Sonoran Blue Sky — Image by kenne
(In November of 2012, Tom Markey and I posted an article, Ecocide Arizona Style — The Cow That Ate The West.
The article was about the disappearing water in the San Simon Valley in southeast Arizona. This poem suggest the verdict is in.)
Ecocide Arizona Style
— kenne
