…presented at Brant Lodge No. 45, Brantford, April 8, 2007.

“In the middle of my life, I came to myself in a dark wood.”
The Divine Comedy, Dante

A small fire glowed with concentrated warmth while outside its small circle the darkness was ebony velvet. The moonlight trembled across the ripples on the lake and silence descended loudly over the perceptible world.

Invisible lines hung loosely from poles anchored in the rocks against the twitching of the anticipated prey and the bobs that held the bait off the bottom, lolled on the water.

We were not alone!

Off in the distance, the wolves kept in touch with each other and the occasional bat flickered in search of any unwary insect that might invade its inky domain. In endless, constant invasion, the black flies performed their Dracula dance on every part of accessible flesh.

I was a perfect night for fishing as the trout moved along the shoreline in what must have been a joy of warmth after a long winter.

A bob dipped and dizzied on the line and action blotted out all errant thought.

Sparkling, sleek and cold, the quarry joined us by our fire and satisfaction distracted us from our biting little pals who raced through our eyes, in our ears, up our noses and any other runway they could find.

By midnight, having yielded up an adequate amount of our blood, we had a few trout. They were ready to feed the folks for breakfast in the morning and we, triumphantly, put an end to our vigil.

We could have eaten breakfast without the fish. We could have denied our black little friends. We could have stayed comfortably at home.

Yet, the fall of a velvet black night against a crystal sky resplendent with stars and the soft silence broken by the talk of wolves, is of the soul. We could not do without that transfusion of life-inducing tranquility.

To the moments of your life, give of yourself.