Early I rise, seeking solitude and silence –
A quiet communion with my thoughts;
A space undisturbed to welcome inspiration.

The lake is quiet in the morning, save a symphony of sound –
Mother Nature its Grand Conductor.
Goose song, the horns;
The hum of bees, like so many violins;
The twittering of birds and squirrels, a timpani;
The rise and fall of docks on lapping lake water, as the rolling of drums.
In the distance, a bird calls but there is no answer.
A car engine roars to life and then quickly fades away.

The lake is still at dawn, except for Nature’s Grand Ballet.
The light rises as a curtain from the stage,
Revealing pine covered mountains dotted with lamplight.
Smoke from distant fires layers across the treetops, blanketing the sky.
A slight breeze blows and tiny ripples dance across the water.
A lake otter dips and dives, swimming silently along the shoreline.
A boat, with its white tail of water like the plume of a bird,
Glides toward quiet coves, a sanctuary to catch the early morning prize.

Even in the quiet and stillness, there is music; there is life.
Nature is an early riser, like me.
And She is the greatest inspiration of all.