By the pond-side, grow clusters of beaked sedge, crowding each other, keeping company with alpine lilies. They seek the light and air beyond the water’s depths, leaves escaping the fluid confines of the pond, reaching up and skyward. What riddle do they tell? What rhyme does their presence sing? Ask a dozen people and receive a dozen answers, all as similar and as different as the leaves of grass upon the water. Perhaps their being is enough and needs no further explanation beyond itself: An Alpine depression, holder of floating summer dreams.