Bex Stone

"You don't wash a house, why would you wash a car?" said Jeremy Clarkson.

I thought, "Good point."

But after a number of months (the quantity of which I can't confess to), I felt a little ashamed of my faithful vehicle.

I'm not sure if the racing water of the crystal clear beck inspired my washing of the car today but I do know that it is now sparkling.

I have found the Beck Stone (part of the Stanza Stone collection) thanks to a suggestion by Wendles56. It's in a lovely position but spoilt, I think, by the great waymarkers that lead you to it. Where's the surprise in that?

The Beck

It is all one chase.
Trace it back 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 its mouth - a dipper strolls the river
dressed for dinner in a white bib.
The unbroken thread of the beck
with its 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 waterfall’s face, and
just for that one, stretched white moment
becomes lace.