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.