By the light...

Photography Rhapsody on a Windy Night

Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions.
Every street-lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium

(from Rhapsody on a Windy Night by TS Eliot)


Tried to get the movement of the wind against the clarity of the moon