I am content with sun and sand,
atop the arid hill on which I stand;
watching shadows slowly spread,
my heart and soul are aptly fed.

The wind blows gently on my face,
and across the vast and empty space;
where there are things we cannot see,
alive and moving,  far from me.

The heat is absent from the day,
the sunset, begins its magic play;
the clouds, first pink, then red,
like some great wound, it's bled.

Then suddenly, it's twilight time,
as the hours, continue to unwind;
as I greet darkness, my old friend,
reminding me, it's near the end.

My life is pleasant and content,
with things I love and have spent;
the sun and sand are but a little trace,
all that I've enjoyed, while in this place.