Trees, sky and a poem

A brief run tonight on a very wet moor, I called by the last fridays Stanza Stone blip so I could write down the poem. Then along to Tuesday's White Wells blip where I blipped those trees again.

So the poem carved into the final Stanza stone is....

Beck Stone
By Simon Armitage


It is all one chase
Trace it back to the source
Might be nothing more than a teardrop
Squeezed from a Curlew's eye
Then follow it down to the full-throated roar
At it's mouth a dipper strolls the river
Dressed for dinner in a white bib.

The unbroken thread of the beck
With it's nose for the sea
All flux and flex, soft soaping a pebble
For thousands of years or here
After hard rain, sawing the hillside in half
With its chain. Or here, where water unbinds
And hangs at the waterfalls face, and
Just for that one stretched white moment
Becomes lace.


Been a bit sluggish with comments this week, will try and catch up in the next day or two.