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.