acquainted with the night

It has been some time since I have visited my little haunt at night.  The sidewalks and streets are empty at night, save for the sound of the occasional car, or horse and buggy clip clopping a block or two away. It seems I have photographed everything that has called me to this tiny town in the past, and I need to find a new muse.

Living in a rural agricultural area has its disadvantages for a person driven to photograph its scenery; it doesn’t change much, and let’s face it, after doing a full 365 and two additional failed attempts, I am fairly selfish about the time it takes to really get out and find some “new brush.”  I do have some locales calling to me, but do I really want to go to an unfamiliar area alone at night, knowing that the bogey man might be just around the corner waiting to jump out?  Especially at Halloween?  EEEK!

Acquainted with the Night

(Robert Frost)

I have been one acquainted with the night.

I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.

I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.

I have passed by the watchman on his beat

And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet

When far away an interrupted cry

Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;

And further still at an unearthly height,

One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.

I have been one acquainted with the night.

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