I took this ‘snap’ as the grey turned to raindrops. The rain started to get heavier so I scurried from his grave, close to the wall of the church, along the path to the small gate near the corner of church grounds. The heavy drops of rain suddenly stopped as I was a couple of metres from the gate and the sun dramatically reappeared behind me and lit the little corner in the picture below. This picture does not do justice to the arresting beauty of that moment for me but I will always have that little journey, from one known grave to an overgrown, uknown one that was suddenly centre-stage. Ironic or expected? The man or the poetry? I like to think Clare would have been pleased to be remembered, and read after all these years but may well be just as happy to see the sun shine through the trees and ivy and rousing the insects.