The Day's Final Salute to Itself

Small, pedestrian-like "tornados" swirl through the dust,
clouding the paths of their existence just enough,
so that I cannot view their landing patterns.

The dirt-laden air is difficult to tolerate
while I'm trying to breathe in deep, the majesty of the sunset.
But, the hues of dusk convince me easily that it's upon me.

The desert wind can speak volumes into my ear, sharing with me it's insight,
and causing all of the "wind-down sounds" to travel through me,
for I'm then able to discern many a sound at this, the day's end.

I hear the sound of crunching gravel
as a vehicle attempts to weigh itself, or so it seems...
..adding the subtlest of soundtracks to the sunset's dying shades of orange.

The "Sentry Order of the Tumbleweed", along with it's supervisor...the "wind"
patrols the streets, alleys, and by-ways,
pausing to take a peek under cars, in order to assure that all is "well".

It is.....and as the night begins to swallow the day's final salute to itself,
and all that the day's activities has provided, and such...
a shiver suddenly begins to silently surround my spine.....and so, I retreat.....to where it's warm.
..