A Leaf on the Lens

My lens is misted with dew, a leaf touches it because I am bent low, almost to the ground, to capture the shot. The leaf looks at me without understanding my intentions, my back creaks; youth doesn’t help much when you want your spine to bend into a V, but it’s always worth it. After some massages, and a few “Ouch,” there they are and me, at 8:35 p.m., while I decide whether the contrast should be higher or not.