The day is closing in a grumpily restless manner. Brooding clouds territorially huddle over the mountains in bruising purples and greys, vying for a place at the tip so they can hold the honour of holding them for the night.
Some hours before, just across the sea in a whole other huddle of clouds, a flame is lit and warmth starts to emanate. Grey turns to brown murk, then to a dusky salmon glow as a light breeze helps to oxygenise and spread the colours across the skies above the headland. They reach that dark huddle who tightly resist, clinging to their hard won tips - and then realise that a genuine offer of neighbourly warmth is attractively inviting and begin to gently merge their hues across the horizon.