The beauty been

On meadow and river and wind-wandering weed-winding bank. GM Hopkins SJ ‘Binsey Poplars’, felled 1879

Poplars at Giverny, Sunrise — Claude Monet — https://www.myartprints.co.uk/a/claude-monet/pappelnbeigivernysonnenaufgang.html

The beautiful emptiness of moonlight
strikes me dumb,
shadows flicker on the periphery
like monochrome, jerky images in a silent film
eerie screeching of cat to cat
the creaky guilty closing of a back gate
as dogs bark, cats yowl, strike a pose,
freeze, with fur dismantled by shadow.
So much idiosyncratic beauty unfurled
as clouds swoop across the face of the moon
and the night sky speeds by.
Stabbing rain drives into my face
as wind whips up the detritus
of human scavenging and the sky
rumbles like an empty belly.
Moonlight is refracted off dripping
rain drops. There are lights on
upstairs in the houses. People dream
of further desecrating the remains of Eden
with shopping malls and bloody concrete
elephants. Everything become worse.