When the solar wind howls it sets the magnetosphere spinning and Aurora takes flight.
She stirs technicolour enchantments so ancient and mysterious, they spit in the eye of scientists with their coronal holes and ionisation.
I yearn for the goddess’s wise blessing, so I go outside.
My big sky is choppy with the distant M6 and the loom from Centre Parcs but, optimistic, I count stars and a moony sliver. It’s cold but I stand until the motion sensor slumbers again and the heavens thicken and clot.
I point my phone camera, set to night mode, and click for magic.
