Yes, dawn happens every single day. The sun rises, and we see what we see. But I am awed by this stark simplicity, this beginning of another day’s light, this manifestation of a planetary cycle, of a star that keeps us alive, that makes possible our very existence.
This light also makes the pond possible. It raises the waters into the sky that rain down and flow into the pond, day after day. How can there be so much water to sustain a pond? Yet here it is, proof of the power of the sun and of the water.
The light makes life in the pond possible. It makes plants grow, with sunlight so diffuse and raw materials so rare that we humans have not found a way to replicate it. But every single living thing in this pond, and around the pond, is a child of the light. The plants grow. The animals feed on the plants, living or dead, or on other animals, or on the decay that is so clearly on display if you can see to the bottom of the pond. They all grow with the light.
The light is rising, promising another day of life and growth. And yes, also promising death and decay. For it is a cycle, like the day and night, like the summer and winter, like the tides on a far ocean shore. All that is alive here will, at some time, die. But there is always something alive in the pond. Always. Because there is light. Every day, there is light.