Tanuri Ridge Sunset — Image by kenne
A sunset with thin,
trembling clouds—
the universe painting
without hurry.
Stand still long enough,
and you will feel chosen.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Sunset’ Tag
Tunuri Ridge Sunset Leave a comment
The Evening Works In Grayscale Leave a comment
Black and White Sunset — Image by kenne
Evening works in grayscale.
The mountains turn honest,
stripped of their bright talk.
The sun lowers itself
behind the ridge—
another shift done,
another mark made clean.
— kenne
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Sunset: The First Of Many To Come 4 comments
Sunset — Image by kenne
The sun sets
not because it is tired,
but to remind us
that endings
are another way
the soul learns trust.
— kenne
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The Sun Sinks Into It’s Own Silence 2 comments
Couple Watching the Sunset on the Sea of Cortés Shore in Puerto Peñasco — Image by kenne
The sun sinks into its own silence.
No myth, no god—just heat and gravity
doing their patient work.
The couple, small in the vast geometry,
watch without speaking,
and for once
the scale feels right:
love and ocean,
each immense,
each ending.
— kenne
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Becoming Leave a comment
Sunset Over Tanuri Ridge — Image by kenne
Becoming
Sunsets shouldn’t be taken for granted.
We’ve earned that wisdom.
They aren’t endings, but continuations—
light working through its final argument.
The desert holds its breath.
We’ve both run out of reasons
to explain beauty.
It happens anyway—
the sky goes dark,
and we call it grace.
Not because it lasts,
but because it doesn’t.
Later, inside,
the room fills
with the faint scent
of dust and air,
the residue of light
still on our faces.
You turn away to pour wine.
I watch,
knowing one day
I’ll remember this—
the silence,
the dimming,
the simple act
of not taking it for granted.
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Catalina Foothills Leave a comment
Catalina Foothills — Image by kenne
Foothills at Sunset
Broken clouds—
a grammar of silence.
The mountain waits,
its edge dissolving
into violet air.
Light departs,
leaving only the memory of flame.
Between earth and sky
a pause—
the foothills speak nothing,
yet all is said.
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Telluride Sunset Leave a comment
Telluride Sunset — Image by kenne
Telluride Sunset
The sun drags its golden
behind the mountains,
spilling over rooftops
and the long shadows of people
crossing Main Street.
Boots scuff the pavement,
laughter floats with
the smell of wood smoke.
No hurry, though the light burns low—
each step a pause,
each glance a small rebellion
against time’s insistence.
Somewhere,
a river runs behind the town,
catching the last fire of day.
Somewhere else,
the mountains hold the wind
like an old joke.
And we cross the street,
thinking we are moving forward,
but really just floating
in the golden end of day,
alive to everything
we cannot carry with us.
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Foothills Leave a comment
Sunset Over the Foothills — Image by kenne
Foothills
I live in the foothills,
where the wash remembers water
only when the mountains weep.
Each evening the sun disappears,
carrying my thoughts
into the galaxies—
a secret treasure left behind,
not a thing you can hold,
but a presence you feel.
Shadows walk the ridges,
enter the flesh of the earth.
Night comes with its gift:
fifteen winters of stars,
fifteen winters of silence.
And I drink—
not wine,
but the ancient medicine
of wonder.
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Monsoon Sunset From Our Patio Leave a comment
Monsoon Sunset from Our Patio — Image by kenne
Even when the storm hides the sky, the sun finds a crack to remind us it is eternal.
— kenne
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Galveston Seawall Leave a comment
Sunset At The Galveston Seawall — Image by kenne
Surfers, Galveston Seawall
The sun pushes horizon
into the Gulf,
a gold coin dissolving
in its own fire.
Bodies rise like sparks,
then vanish—
ghosts rehearsing
the same fall.
Wave after wave,
the water keeps faith
with silence,
and the seawall,
stone-lunged,
holds its breath.
— kenne
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A Ghost In The Sunset 2 comments
The Ghost of Brother Tom At Sunset — Image by kenne
Brother Tom at Sunset
Long white beard—
ghost in the low light,
edges blurred,
dust lifting from stone.
He stands quiet,
as if listening
to the earth breathe.
Sky bleeds orange,
then violet—
a spirit walking
the shore line.
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Sonoran Negative 5 comments
Sonoran Sunset — Image by kenne
Sonoran Negative
Sun leans low,
half-caught in the cactus ribs—
its body broken
into light & shadow.
Above, clouds drift,
wisps scattered
like torn paper,
like smoke
from some far-off fire.
The desert does not move.
Stone listens.
Thorn remembers.
Even the horizon
waits.
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A Sunset Song 2 comments
A Mouth Harp Sunset Song On Blackett’s Ridge — Image by kenne
Mouth Harp Song for the Sunset
Bend me a note,
low in the canyon wind—
sun’s going down,
day’s at its end.
Fire on the ridge,
stone cut against the sky,
harp keeps singing,
light says goodbye.
Oh, the shadows fall,
long and wide—
carry that tune
to the other side.
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Tanuri Ridge Sunset 4 comments
Tanuri Ridge Sunset Computer Painting — Image by kenne
Evening comes slowly,
a patient hand across the desert sky.
Tanuri Ridge lifts its quiet spine
against the last of the light,
trees and shadows holding their place
as the horizon begins to burn.
The sun spills its final colors—
deep amber,
rose drifting into violet,
a breath of gold dissolving into silence.
Every hue lingers longer than the last,
as though the sky is unwilling to let go.
On the screen,
a digital brush gathers the moment,
stroke after stroke shaping what fades.
Pixels remember
what the eye can only witness once.
Here, in painted light,
the sunset does not vanish—
it stays suspended,
a meditation on time,
a stillness made visible,
a horizon that never fully darkens.
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Sea of Cortez Sunset 2 comments
Sunset Over the Sea of Cortez — Image by kenne
“Let me absorb this thing. Let me try to understand it without private barriers.
When I have understood what you are saying, only then will I subject it to my own scrutiny
and my own criticism” This is the finest of all critical approaches and the rarest.”
― from The Log from the Sea of Cortez by John Steinbeck
