Rapture at Daybreak

Arriving at Schweitzer Marsh on a cool March morning I made my way along a short trail to the western shore, my eyes adjusting to the eastern veil of gray blending with the water. In an act of courage, each spring the first lily shoots pierce the surface. Ringed in crystal velum, ascendant lilies are often choked by the thin membranes of ice that film the surface of the marsh every March.

Ice had melted the previous day, enabling the migrating strings of geese and ducks to drop-in to feed, some to nest, others to continue on. Yet, late night still, before morning twilight returned the dull color to the landscape, I watched alone from the shore as a wild goose floated silently in flat still water, motionless in his own reflection, his morning reverie one of mystery and metaphor. I could only speculate about his ruminations, how they weighed upon him, his thoughts of loss or regret perhaps, or the elation of solitude elevating his thoughts or even some instinctive pull that drew him to the far end.

He made not a visible move, not a paddle, as the still marsh cradled him in place. Looking back but also within, he gazed past a distant raft of ducks and further still, past hoary pin oaks their high watermarks faintly visible, through sleeping flocks, past islands of sedge and rush and earthy peat, once a birth nest, even beyond the tree line of towering white oak, into the gunmetal sky before morning twilight. How rich the solitude.

“In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion.”
—Albert Camus

Year: 2010
Location: Schweitzer Marsh
Collector’s Edition of 10
Dimensions: 11" x 16.5"