Solstice

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…

Hammock

Floating in pale sunlight: Leaves pivotĀ above my rocking hips; Reminiscent of al fresco wildness.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017

Each and every

I think of you with each and every swing…   Copyright Tom Tide 2017