Last night I glanced out of the window to watch two wood pigeons perched close together on an rooftop, billing & cooing and exchanging what looked like kisses. The clouds above and beyond them were infused with a golden tinge from the setting sun. It looked like it would be the perfect shot as I rushed upstairs to get my camera.
No outside with camera poised I looked up at where the pigeons were and there they were, gone. The birds had flown.
Furthermore the light had gone as I looked around and scanned the street for a suitable scene. All had changed in a matter of seconds.
Tomorrow, I thought, as I turned back, tomorrow, I shall be out here ready to capture the last beams of the sinking sun.
But the clouds have hid the sun for most of the day and have cast a uniform sameness over everything.
There’s always tomorrow.