Miramichi Morning

(A writing to Dewey Gillespie from a very respected friend AJH)

Evening Star

 Itís five oíclock in the morning and the birds having surrendered daylight to darkness are quiet now, and the sun wonít rise for another thirty minutes, but I can already make out the silhouettes of poplars on the hillside.  Itís still dismal outside, but clearer every time I look.  The horizon brightens.  Two rabbits hop across the back lawn.  Itís brighter still.  Slowly, at the creatorís own pace, the morning is taking shape.  Here, where I sit, used to be a dense growth of trees. 

The sun is up now and so is my wife, with whom I share my life.  A hummingbird hovers over the feeder.  Traffic hums along the street.  The phone could ring at any minute.  The rest of the world is setting about itís business.  I wish it all the best.  It doesnít know, after all, what itís missing here on a summer morning.  Happily the angler heads for his favorite salmon pool on the Northwest Miramichi River, New Brunswick, Canada.