This was always our time
Foggy, grey mornings
The sun yet to escape the horizon
Water skitters the only other creatures
Causing ripples on the lake
Bullfrogs and early birdsong
Perform their morning siren call
The lake is smooth as glass
We slip into the paddle boat
Before anyone else considers waking
The ancient yellow vessel creaks
Under our determined feet
Our tiny wake ruffles the glassy surface
The rudder screeches under your direction
Aiming us for our favourite fishing spot
Few words pass between us
A fish jumps, leaving a small ripple
The quiet whizz of the lures flying through the air
Gently plopping into the water
The gentle ticking of the reels urging the line back in
Your ancient brown tackle box
Offers a variety of treasures
Red and gold spinners
A couple vibrant green jitterbugs
Metal leader lines, knives, and other tools
Did we catch something?
Nothing we kept
“Catch and Release” your ratty grey shirt reads
Emblazoned with a leaping smallmouth bass
And that’s what we do
Once the sun creeps past the horizon
Sounds of others waking echo across the small lake
Tugging us back to shore
Our time has ended
Time to go about the business of breakfast
We only get so many sunrises
You embraced yours to the full
