It's 4:30 or maybe 5 in the morning
On an early summer day
The air smells of Jack Pine and Oak;
An atmosphere of nostalgia and youth
The sun is half way up the tree line
And struggles to get even the smallest of grasp on the heavily misted lake
Hot coals are all that remain of last night's fire
In joyful tradition
I get it back to a small blaze
With the help of cedar,
It pops and crackles like
An early morning greeting to my sleep crust eyes
I walk to the shoreline 50 feet from the fire
It's noticeably cooler
The lake is glass flat
With a few ducks swimming serenely near the northwest corner
Occasionally a bass jumps out and shatters the smooth surface
Eager for breakfast
I stretch my knotted muscles
And shake off last night's reverie in a yawn
A sigh of utmost content
I stroll along the water's edge admiring its beauty
Looking for any sort of treasure
Be it a shiny rock or a pair of miss placed pliers
Wandering back to the fire
It's back to a pile of coals
I must've been gone awhile
I grab a chair that was either tripped over
Or thrown aside and set it down near the light flames
I take a seat and enjoy what I see
It's as if nature has held out her arms for me
Has embraced me with the serenity of
Everything she has to offer
Hours pass in bliss
Sharing secrets with Mother Nature
A tent rustles a few yards back
A content smile pours itself
Across my face
My day is already over
