A curved canvas.
Full of waves and clouds.
Tide-shifted sands, spun by the elements.
Horizons meet beneath the tide-line.
An ironic composition, when paint rubs off to reveal beauty.
Love- lacquered layers of paint incited,
As praiseworthy as a Ruskin landscape or John Nash painting.
Yet brought to life without hands. No, rather
The crystal rasp of slipway:
Carved by the rising falling swell of tide
making love with this scoured hull.
Perhaps even swept by seal-hides,
when whiskered Seadogs turn tricks for fish.
Tethered by russet-hued chaining
The Sea has slowly steered this wondrous composition.
Leaving its indelible signature,
For all and any curious eyes.
Though best viewed slowest ebb of Tide.
© Tom Tide 2017
Image courtesy of Caroline Richards.