I am most at peace here, by the shore
of this quiet lake. It's fall, the best time
to be here. The air crisp but not yet cold,
sweater tossed about my shoulders, wine glass
in hand, kicked back on a lounge chair staring
up at the stars. Cicadas serenade me in rhythm
with the waves lapping at the rocks along 
the shoreline, and the snap crackle pop
of the campfire keeps the chill off my legs
and fills my head with sweet wood smoke.
Trusted dog naps peacefully on one side of me,
trusted mate relaxing on the other side,
reminding me now and again that I'm always
in his thoughts by giving my hand a little
squeeze. If I were to die here tonight, just 
like this, it would be perfect. I'd be content 
in death.