‘Something about these small birds singing into that pre-dawn dark moves me to tears. Something too, in these still, May-filled days always reminds me of Edward Thomas and ‘all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire’. How do such tiny birds hold such achingly powerful poetic resonance for us…? Way beyond their tiny size and exquisite song. It’s something to do with time, time past and time present, but I can only get close to the ache in a mezzotint. Words will not do’ SG