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Gulls are huddled together at water's edge, occasionally fluttering out of the way of a wave with its slightly longer tongue lapping at the sand. Mist hovers in the distance, tracing the curve of trees putting their arm around the lake's edge.A speckled gull walks aimlessly, alone, extricated from the group of grey and white purists.

The sun coyly lights the satiny white ruffles of the lake's skirt. Farther out on the horizon, the robust waves boil profusely against the still, sleepy sky. An occasional silver winged gull reflects the sun's warmth against the grayness, a twinkling foreteller of the dawn's approaching brightness.Yes, there is always a dawn. No, it is not always bright. But yes, if I look, there is always one strong spark still glowing brightly on the edge of my heart.

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