No country walks right now. It’s much too hot. But
remembering John Nash’s glorious picture of a moat
in the frosty silence of winter, I ransacked my bookshelves
to find a copy of it. Hurry up cooler weather so we can
start our walks again and take time to look at everything.
Trouble with looking at books is that you never know when
to stop and before you know where you are, there’s a pile
of wonderful pictures in front of you, all waiting for their
tiny moment of glory.
THE MOAT IN WINTER
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.
Poems by Gwen Grant 