My Morning Story

The river was thick with silt that day; Truly muddy waters. The air was clean and the trees were various shades of orange. Birds were singing a few of the seasons last songs as fallen foliage crunched under foot.  Under dressed as always I shivered against the cold and tried my damnedest to rub away the goose bumps. The perfectly blue sky providing virtually no heat this time of year. None of this however affects my young blonde friend. Kind of a short, stocky guy with a sunny disposition you couldn’t beat away with a stick. He’s a good many years younger than I, but the wife doesn’t mind me bringin’ ‘em around which is pretty rare these days. He can’t drive worth a damn worth so I chauffeur him in and out of town and to places like this particular river bend. A place where I sneak a mid after noon smoke while my friend takes a jog to admire the sights, sounds and smells of nature. We usually stop and admire the beauty our small town provides for about a half an hour before we retire to my place for a good meal and some football. There was something wild in his eye today. I could tell there was something I could never understand  rattling around up there somewhere. He had been doing wind sprints when a red tailed hawk let out a call as it passed over head. My friend looked over his shoulder just long enough to run blindly into the river. He was out in a shot and on the bank staring at the river in a state of utter betrayal. I could only laugh at the poor guy; not the brightest dog I ever had; but the wife lets me bring ‘em around, even if he’s gotta ride in the back of the pick up sometimes.