The reflected light of the full moon lay across the clearing, the bounding wood set a distance away gave the impression of an impenetrable blackness walling in the shrubs and grassland. My mind was at ease with the surrounding wall of darkness, the trails are well known to me and I am aware that once in the trees the woodland floor and tracks would be well lit once the eyes adjust.
I trod the uneven earth as I made my way towards the edge of the clearing, passing small clusters of trees and hedges. It was then I saw something new to me, several trees wore a cloak of white blossom. In the moonlight the blooms shone as if the trees had caught a cascading cloud among their branches. No doubt these would be pleasant in the light of day where they would stand side by side with pink blossom and the new leaves, but in the full moonlight they were unequaled in their impact.
Standing beneath the trees I cast my eyes upward. The clear night and the void beyond teased the warmth from my face but my fingertips could still sense the warmth of the earth beneath me. It appears the theatre of the night has treated me to another splendid display. Such moments should be seized by the senses, cherished by the memory and fuel the inspiration. It is a regret that such things are brief, the blossom will be gone by the next full moon, but I have been fortunate to stand in such a place and such a light, for a while at least.