Twilight on the Severn
The contrail in the lover left corner looked a little like a wisp of smoke from a camp fire, as the sky turns from red to blue.
The photograph does ample justice to the stillness of the early evening. All I heard was the quiet lapping of the waves as the tide came in, and the occasional mournful call of a wading bird. The perfect antidote to the modern world. Bliss.