I could not believe my luck when I captured this enchanting picture; I had already fallen in love with the image before I ever took the shot. --Scenes like this make me wish I was the early-riser sort... the world, in my humble opinion, is at it's peak beauty before it fully wakes.
Just two miles or so away from this sleepy Cherolet, appeared the most breathtakingly hypnotic and beautiful site -- which will forever be etched within the recesses of my mind and ever more be known as "the one that got away"... or, the photo I did not take.
Okay sure, it would have required illegally stopping on a major highway bridge (with an illegally loaded gun in the car) in a steady flow of morning commuters and briefly abandoning the vehicle and a minor child while endangering my own life in order to get the shot, but hey, in retrospect, I still think it would have been worth it. (Damn the common sense and protective maternal instincts!) No doubt, had I been traveling alone, this is what you would see:
...Misty morning mountain fog floating like a ghostly curtain above the quiet currents of the river, so heavy its drapes that even the banks of the river are hidden from view... The sleepy sun, in a slow assent to its perch, illuminating the silvery whisps and creating an air of what can only be described as Magic. And there below the glowing haze, a lone black duck glides softly upon the still water toward sunrise, rippling a perfect "V" behind him.
Visual Poetry. *sigh*
"Morning has broken like the first morning,
blackbird has spoken like the first bird.
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning,
praise for them springing, fresh from the word..."
...Cat Stevens, Morning Has Broken 1971
(from Eleanor Farjeon, 1931)
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