"... whose dwelling is the light of setting suns..."

Wordsworth's "Lines written A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey" has been on my mind all day...  and as the sun sets here, the candles and the table throw shadows on the floor:

And then the light reflects and bounces from my fingers and the camera lens and a framed monotype:

And, as Wordsworth wrote: "Therefore am I still/ A lover of the meadows and the woods..."