Through the trees outside Euston Station, dappled sun somehow formed into moving bright circles, overlapping back and forth over the back of the double-decker bus in front of the one I'm on.
A tiny bow of spectrum in thin, lofty clouds as the sun sets on a the same June evening, seen through the high windows of the local, upstairs suddenly discovered and approved of.
Later, in a darkening sky, watching the still-bright contrail of a plane moving behind it from south to north. Thinking of lyrics; 'jets look like comets at sunset'.