It’s a beautiful evening.
There’s half of the moon visible. The sky is deepest blue. Clouds are white.
Then I hear a song; a beautiful song. It takes me an age to hear where it’s coming from. I know it’s in the sky somewhere, but where? Then I see it; it’s a Skylark ascending:
“He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound,
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake.”
If only I could capture the Moon, the clouds and the Lark in the same image. Even if I had, I still wouldn’t have captured this moment.