Watering can soothe

I sweltered in my car. A metal box, arid and non-living. Then with a click, she emerged. Cradling a watering can wearing a top blue as an April sky. To revive a beloved garden of England. Or perhaps Japan: so lovingly fed and swept in to place by delicate hands. All ferns and fronds.   … More Watering can soothe

Pipe Dreams

Briar wood grows and forms achingly slowly. It forms beneath the ground in bulbous swell, somewhere between tree trunk and roots. Only once heated, rested and then fire-hardened once again can it be turned cunningly into a pipe bowl. Ready to be smoked. I now know all of these things, and am fascinated by them. … More Pipe Dreams

Sylvan

Even here, deep in suburbia, It is wild tonight. Everything gilded in Silver. Sharp silhouettes softly shadowed yet lights fan out, sharp as a blade. Slipping out, no sound carries. I feel in the deep Sea or darkest space. The chill calms me. Soothes my teeming mind. Yet also excites it, for even though I … More Sylvan

Art Nouveau

  No more than Ivy winding around branches, Deep down a Somerset lane. Yet the glimpse of it took me to Paris: to flowing Guimard Ironwork. Arching stonework on Barcelona streets. Exotic, urban landscapes.   © Tom Tide 2016