Archive for the ‘Sonoran Desert’ Tag

Sharing Berries   6 comments

Cedar Waxwings Sharing Berries — Image by kenne 

They pass a berry

beak to beak, politely,

as if time allows this. 

— kenne

Good Morning From Sabino Canyon   Leave a comment

Good Morning from Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne

The day begins
not with noise
but with attention.
Sabino Canyon opens its hands,
and the light settles in—
a blessing
that asks only
to be noticed.

— kenne

Seed Pod Explosion   Leave a comment

Seed Pod Releasing Seeds To the Wind — Image by kenne

When it is finished,
the pod remains—
curved, hollow, precise.
Proof that purpose
does not require permanence.

— kenne

Death Happens   Leave a comment

Death Happens — Image by kenne

Death happens
the way rain does—
announced by no one,
soaking the afternoon
until even the living
forget when it began.

— kenne

Cactus Face   1 comment

“Cactus Face” — Image by kenne

Walking past,
I swear it whispered—
not in words
but in that way
a crooked mouth of bark and thorn
can suggest a whole conversation.
I nodded,
pretending I understood.

— kenne

Monsoon Rains   1 comment

Monsoon Rain Clouds as Soon from Our Patio (August) — Image by kenne

Across the wide expanse, the sky darkens,
not with threat but with blessing.
The desert tilts its face upward,
ready to drink the slow blue thunder
of monsoon rain.

— kenne

Exploding Seedpod   Leave a comment

Exploding Seedpod on the DeAnza Trail — Image by kenne

Exploding Seedpod — De Anza Trail

Dry wind—
the pod cracks,
a small thunder of life.

Seeds scatter
into dust and sunlight—
each one a prayer
the earth will remember.

— kenne

Desert Mystic   3 comments

Desert Mystic by kenne

The desert teaches by absence. Beneath the old olive tree, the stones rise into a small architecture of intention. Their balance is temporary, but what isn’t? Wind moves through the leaves like an old story. Somewhere nearby, a lizard watches, unbothered by the human need to make order from dust.

Desert Noir   4 comments

Desert Noir  by kenne

black sky—

sepia arms

lifted

in a dry

hallelujah.

Desert Existenial Moment   Leave a comment

Desert Existential Moment — Image by kenne

Thinking is the fever we mistake for health.
We name the world to quiet it,
draw borders around what frightens us.

But fear is faithful—
it returns with every sunrise,
reminding us the map is not the mountain,
and reason only another storm
in the endless desert of being.

— kenne

One Brief Throne   1 comment

Empress Leilia On A Foothills Wildflower — Image by kenne

The Empress Leilia lands,
her wings a hush of amber light.
One brief throne—
a wildflower trembling
under her grace.
The mountain holds its breath
to watch beauty pause.
The desert bows once,
then forgets.

— kenne

Nearing The Birthday   1 comment

Carillo Trail — Image by kenne

Nearing the Birthday

Soon another year
will place its hand
on my shoulder.

Nothing is wasted.
Pain becomes a record
that I was here long enough
to be marked.

I will not ask
for fewer days of pain.
I will ask
for more moments of noticing—
the hummingbird darting
the chipmont on the ground,
The olive tree’s kindness of shade.

If this is my work now,
I accept it gladly:
to love the world
as it is,
from inside
this aging, faithful body.

Tell me,
what else
would I have been practicing for?

— kenne

Verdin In A Desert Willow   2 comments

Little Verdin in the Desert Willow by kenne

Little Verdin in the Desert Willow

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—

Another Beautiful Sunset In Tucson   Leave a comment

Sunset Sky — Image by kenne

From the patio—
clouds split, the sun breaks open,
rays scatter like prayers.

Evening settles in,
silence stitched with desert wind,
night takes the last fire.

Spring Is Not A Season   Leave a comment

Lupine Art — Painting by kenne

I think of how often beauty hides in plain sight—
the slender stem, the trembling petals,
the way blue cradles purple
like a blessing.

In this painting,
spring is not a season
but a small awakening of the heart.

— kenne