Image by kenne
The sky
doesn’t use words.
It just turns gold,
then amber,
then impossible.
And somehow
we all get the message:
Fall is here.
Archive for the ‘Sunset’ Tag
The Sky’s Announcement 1 comment
Not Just Another Sunset Leave a comment
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.
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What the Desert Keeps 2 comments
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.
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Another Beautiful Sonoran Sunset Leave a comment
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.
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Corvette Faffle Leave a comment
Corvette Raffle at Sunset — Image by kenne
The sun lowers behind Tucson,
softening the edges of everything—
even hope.
Tickets crinkle in warm hands,
paper prayers folded small.
The Tucson Greek Festival hums—
music, language, memory—
while the car gleams,
a quiet altar
to chance.
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Tunuri Ridge Sunset Leave a comment
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
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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
