December 5, 2020


By admin

Tendrils are nature’s hieroglyphs – a poetic word derived from the Greek for ‘sacred carvings’.

In only a few weeks since it found home in my tiny balcony, the passion vine has crawled and sprawled wantonly, its green tendrils clutching at whatever they can find, wrapping them in a tight tender embrace. 

I imagine it would feel beatific if you liked the tendril, or asphyxiating if you didn’t. 

This morning I focus on the browned ones: calm and graceful in their senescence, done with their juvenile yearnings. 

In the soothing winter sun, they emanate a sense of the mythical, eternal, lyrical, and symbolic.