My fingers are frozen. Almost too cold to press the buttons. The morning is dark. Almost too dark for any hope of photos.
The clock is ticking. Five to nine. Almost too late for me still to be outside, taking photographs. Yet, the morning is breaking.
A pale light of apricot is moving over Criffel. Trees are standing contrast as the light grows behind. Field lines pop in the framing of the morning. Streaks of orange paint the winter sky.
My fingers tremble. It is not just with cold.
Oh god let me worship.