It is the break of day, and I now stand on the edge of the lake. It is here that I have witnessed my first view of the sunrise. The night wind has continued into the morning, but the water isn't moving. The truth is, it is no longer water; it's ice. I now focus my gaze on the bridge. A black bird flies out from it's perch under the bridge. As the crow flies away, another follows it, and then another. I can't waste all of my time counting crows, though. Why they were there so late into the winter is a mystery. There has been no early frost, and I have just seen the first snow of the winter. The wind on this January day carries a slight sting. Cold weather is finally here.