It was one of these occasions better served with a SLR camera in hand, and even then that would pale in comparison against the reality. Writing is in order, though there are never enough words; the final impression cannot reflect the clarity of that singular moment and we are left with an etch-a-sketch representation.
It perches on a small hill of its own making, silhouetted against a vast expanse of tufty sky. A radius of trampled earth and stone surrounds it and beyond is a field of tall grass that maps the wind’s passage. The crane starts and goes about its intangible business in a cloud of diesel smoke.