Somewhere along the way, those blues and pinks that come and go in half-hour gifts caught my eye.
Through decades of waiting and looking up to catch as many as I can, the child in me sits, bolt upright, gazing in awe at the same sight every time it comes.

Perhaps because of its simplicity, or maybe because of its silence, the edges of that mysterious circular light catch on me like thorns and I can only look.

Tonight, like every night before it, there is a nostalgic moment brewing within.
And like so many nights before, I took this picture in an attempt to show it to you, in case you missed it, nested snug between those tree tops.

And although I know you can never get that feeling from a photograph, I also know you don't have to, because you already know what it is and your inner child loves it as much as mine.

Two slices of early evening peace: one, a peeling of the moon, and the other, a halo of the quiet village from where I see it.