Winds blew and trees swayed back and forth to a rhythmic beat. It was the dance of nature. He watched from his front porch; sun casting shadows, flowers still showed off colors; Indian summer.
And he looked at the black asphalt running in front of his house; shining like a new penny. Tall grass growing by the foot on the sides of the road. Birds swooping into nests built in gutters, trees. It was all like some kind of movie, or, painting; an old Chevy truck sat in the front yard.
The sounds of semis and motorcycles from the highway made a soundtrack. Soon it would be the slushing of snow; nature’s death before resurrection. He knew it was coming; winter, darkness would come early.
But, he was at peace on that day. His last day. Finality has a beauty. Goodbye dear friend.