I am sitting here in the early morning alone, drinking my tea listening to Henry talk to me softly across the room. The sky is hazy this morning. The clouds are thick and complete. The sun is making its way quickly into the morning sky through a fissure created only for purposes of sunrises.
It is reminiscent of the moonrise I watched just a short week ago. At first I see just a hint of the glowing arc as the top of the orb peeks above the haze. As it rises, it is bright orange, so bright I can barely look at it without hurting my eyes. It casts a reflective path of fire the width of the lake. I just know that if I walked to the end of my dock and touched the water, it would be warmer there.
Moments like these are fleeting and just as quickly as it appeared, the sun is gone. The giant orange ball of fire is enveloped back into the clouds from which it appeared. The fire on the water doused, returned to the cool and gray. And here come the fishermen, standing at attention on their boat as it glides through the water, working their poles quietly on this tranquil Saturday morning.
Life on the lake starts early...I know why.