. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Saturday, November 24, 2007

grey cup

The longing cries of the loons announce the end of another day on Dogtooth Lake, and the whippoorwills awaken me before sunrise. The crisp sound of the cold metal zipper seems unduly loud as I exit my makeshift sleeping chamber to fetch some water. Flames crackling, coffee percolating, metal spoon against tin grey cup – these are the sounds of morning in my haven. Mesmerized by the earliest tints of sun as they strike the undulating lake, I tell myself (again) that I have never felt such peace, never seen such perfect beauty.

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