As dusk approached,
the fire in the sky
lit the mountains of the Mojave
aflame.
Painting the horizon
as hot coals,
destined to smolder.
Gray haze hanging
in the valleys.
The breeze brought night,
the moon, and stars
uncountable.
It was life, and
death,
the peace,
and violence
between.
When I retire I want to live somewhere nature is painted all around and the beauty of earth can lay me to rest each night.