I didn’t want to.
Eyes wide open toward the sun.
The gold had thinned out
toward the deep blue of forever.
Where was the end of it?
Sculpted clouds insisted I look away,
their majesty butting in with finite beauty.
Grey smudges in and around fine lines.
I was driving toward the end of day
but I didn’t want to.
I pulled over and waited.
The gravel road ceased its grumbling.
Trees, like sentries, stood attentive.
The End of Days walked
my way and took my hand.
His eyes, like the sun, shone a path
before us and a finger pointed up
to the blue eternity.
I saw with a squint
the joy of true friendship.
I still feel an arm around my shoulder.
Gerald the Writer 
Were you in your brown truck when you pulled over? Is so, you see things in your work day that others surely miss.
Beautiful. You are a gifted writer.
P.S. Do you own the copyrights to the first landscape photo? If so, would you send it to me via email? I would love to try and paint it.
I think this might do it.
Thanks!
It did do.