Coffee by my side, I sit on the dock, overlooking North Arm Bay of Lake Minnetonka. It is 6:02 a.m. Everyone who writes about these sorts of times describes it as quiet and peaceful. They deliberately ignore the Hitchcockian quantities of birds hellbent on their morning song. It’s loud out here. A family of geese paddle somewhere slowly, honking. A loon calls someone, maybe his mother. I face east which means the sunrise is directly in front of me, just above the horizon. Sunrises are a bit like the Minnesota Vikings, best enjoyed with a gaze that I’ll call indirect. I do not wish to be the guy wearing sunglasses at six a.m., but I suppose we all have a cross to bear.
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