There’s a place where all the shavings go, Where it is I do not know; At night when we all sleep and dream, They write the things that should have been.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017


A beautiful print of many, many birds in flight hangs by my bedside. It is a perfect circle of airborne seabirds. A maelstrom of wings that swoop and soar. Countless, delicately drawn souls. The canvas is crowded and difficult to take in all at once, and yet it brings me a deep sense of calm….

Sumer is icumen in!

It is surprising what a teacher can do with a blank door and a dog-eared Ladybird picture book. I detested the idea of throwing away my charity shop bought copy of What to Look for in Summer’. It has now transformed the door of my classroom in to a little glimpse of summer fecundity, and as such…


We move too fast. Miss even our own actions. Every movement, and all the traces left. As we thunder through. Mostly oblivious.   © Tom Tide 2016


I looked at my dog-eared road atlas today. Battered. Only turned to in lost, driving  desperation. I happened upon a page, with a red dotted line. Felt transported. My fingertips running over names long forgotten. Suddenly recalled in sharp focus.   Every step measured out and walked with you. So long ago. You, a globe…


A strange meeting. Prayerful, with eyes lowered and bowed heads. This convocation of hands Graceful as  dancers; steadily Holding life and limb- A silent congregation, intent Upon salvation. Invoking healing, as if souls, not mouths, could converse. All in Accord, held by a moment bathed in light.  Yet moving mechanically, as the many parts of a…