The water was shrouded in drifting mist. A gradual crescendo of birds were warming their voices. The dawn of a new day suffused the horizon with an orange hue. My paddle dipped noiselessly and my kayak carved a clean slice in the dark water. The primal rays illumined the distant shore. The pulsing orb rose above the tree line and the river was bathed in umber as the mist swirled and melted around me.
A voice sang in my head. It was Curly singing praise to an Oklahoma daybreak. "Oh, what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I've got a wonderful feeling, everything's going my way. Oh, the sounds of the earth are like music, the sounds of the earth are like music, the breeze is so busy it don't miss a tree, and an old weeping willow is laughing at me. All the cattle are standing like statues, all the cattle are standing like statues, the corn is as high as an elephant's eye, and a little brown maverick is winking her eye."
And I had no choice but to join in the chorus, "Oh, what a beautiful morning, Oh, what a beautiful day, I've got a wonderful feeling, everything's going my way!"