Wittenham Clumps

When my daughter and grandchildren came to visit from abroad, we had a full schedule of events, and a list was on display and tickets jumping excitedly in a drawer. On one day I had written 'spare day - maybe go and fly kites at Wittenham Clumps'. This caused hilarity as they thought I had made it up and there was no such place. As it happens, we never did get there, but I gave them a postcard of this lovely pen and black ink over graphite done by Paul Nash, called 'The Wood on the Hill' (Wittenham Clumps). Since then I have also had a weak moment and bought a lino print by Susan Wheeler. They are both so utterly different, yet to me they both in their way capture some of the magic of the place. There is a poem tree there, which I am ashamed to say I have yet to visit. However, I did find the sight of Didcot Power Station in the distance a bit depressing and so did a little poem of my own, for what it's worth:

Wittenham Clumps

The cluster of beeches
is motionless;
the silhouette branches
long for the wind
to let them
scribble warnings
in the sky, while

beyond woven fences
like linked arms
and fringed wings of kites,
the blood-red sky
slashes across
the fat grey throats
of the cooling towers
chain-smoking
and coughing
like consumptives.