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.
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.
Corvette Raffle at Sunset — Image by kenne
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
Black and White Sunset — Image by kenne
— kenne
Sunset — Image by kenne
— kenne
Couple Watching the Sunset on the Sea of Cortés Shore in Puerto Peñasco — Image by kenne
— kenne
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.
Catalina Foothills — Image by kenne
Foothills at Sunset
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.
Sunset Over the Foothills — Image by kenne
Foothills
Monsoon Sunset from Our Patio — Image by kenne
— kenne
Sunset At The Galveston Seawall — Image by kenne
Surfers, Galveston Seawall
— kenne
The Ghost of Brother Tom At Sunset — Image by kenne
Brother Tom at Sunset
