The Writer's Pen

Nothing is so perfect as an evening in June. I sit on my deck on the south shore of Silver Lake with a good book and a cold beverage. The lake is calm. The birds sing. A hummingbird whizzes by on his way to the feeder. There are no boats or jet skis racing by. None of the neighbors are outside talking. No kids are swimming. No one is playing fetch with their dog. A lone duck quacks from the shoreline as he slips into the water. It is rare to see a duck here. Usually there are geese or pelicans.

The sun is a bright fuchsia red ball as it sinks slowly toward the horizon. Its reflection glistens...