Wells have profound depth: Like the mind, thoughts plummet through air; Lightly cast, yet forming ripples.   ©Tom Tide 2017 Advertisements


Voices carry through the night. Amplified by still-warm walls. Ironic: humans outside and cats in. Every window door vent thrown wide, As the moths have a jamboree. No breeze to ruffle my book leaves tonight, only the tap of winged things, scampering over mottled ink. All dry, everything dry, save my sweat. Tonight, England has … More Solstice