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.

Always beautiful

Though best viewed slowest ebb of Tide.


© Tom Tide 2017

Image courtesy of Caroline Richards.

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