Every time I look, my hungry eyes see more.
A line of Galloping surf at dusk or dawn.
Spray-flecked lighthouse, defiant in brilliant white.
Darting seabirds thumping down to chase silver glimmerings-
or scudding clouds swirling far out to see.
In need of a lick of paint? No. Anything but.
Here there is the intensity of Turner.
Monet’s sense of shade.
And something ingrained, that I do not have the words to describe.
Copyright Tom Tide 2017