Photo Prompt: A Sense Of Place

Stories

Spinning. Twirling tendrils

Wrap around the writer

Ensnaring her with their words.

Some places demand to be heard

to share their history,

their sense of self

their place in time.

Others have it coaxed from them,

Green fingers gently nurturing

reluctant tales,

turning seeds of ideas

into verdent borders

of onomatopoeia and simile.

Sometimes hunched over a desk,

forehead furrowed

searching for the story.

Other times fingers fly,

plots escaping and forming 

of their own free will.

This is such a place -

thriller, horror, romance, crime.

A riotous collision of genres,

explosions of colour which

form the garden

from where the reader travels

to Cornwall

to the past

to the moor.