The Moat by John Nash…exhibited in The Tate

Languishing with a cough, my thoughts went to to the
days of freedom when we could all go out and walk in
the country. I remembered Nash’s glorious picture of
the Moat and ransacked my bookshelves to find a copy
of it. Hurry up the days of freedom so we can all look
at everything!


I never saw the moat
Like that before.
The clear grey water
Holding tight the lovely ghost
Of Winter Thorn.
The thin branched Birch
Pushing aside the sky,
That the grey moat paths
May, as usual, lead the fox
Into the dark fields sulking.

Now, whenever I look
Into that still water,
Whether Spring breezes play
Cat and mouse with the sparkling
Drops of living silver,
Or summer leaves stipple
The calm brown surface,
That spare and beautiful image of winter
Will always be with me,
Always be in my watchful eyes.

                     ©2021 Gwen Grant.

5 thoughts on “THE MOAT IN WINTER

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