Another poem

One of my earliest memories is of sitting in a room with an open fire, and it being dark. I revisited the street earlier in my blipping year.

Anyhow, back to the point. That dark room, with the fire, my father was there and he used to recite a poem. He probably recited lots, but the one that stuck was called The Highwayman by a good old Blackcountry lad, Alfred Noyes.

Anyway, I was out tonight photographing some night orienteering (celebrating halloween) and I intended to blip some nice light trails made by the head torches of the runners. I shot a few of the moon as something to do whilst the runners were out of sight. It was only when I downloaded that the poem came back to me.

THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding-- riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.