Dew, Puddle and Becks Stanza Stones
Channel: Robert John Kerr
Date: 2020-05-31

The Dew Stone
The tense stand-off
of summer’s end,
the touchy fuse-wire 
of parched grass,
tapers of bulrush and reed,
any tree
a primed mortar of tinder,
one spark enough to trigger
a march on the moor
by ranks of flame.
Dew enters the field 
under cover of night,
tending the weary and sapped,
lifting its thimble of drink
to the lips of a leaf,
to the stoats tongue,
trimming a length 
of barbed-wire fence
with liquid gems, here
where bog-cotton 
flags its surrender
or carries its torch
for the rain.
Then dawn, when sunrise
plants its fire-star 
in each drop, ignites
each trembling eye.

The Puddle Stone
Rain-junk
Sky-litter
Some May mornings
Atlantic storm-horses
clatter this way,
shedding their iron shoes
in potholes and ruts,
shoes that melt 
into steel grey puddles
then settle and set
into cloudless mirrors
by noon.
The shy deer
of the daytime moon
comes to sip from the rim
But the sun
likes the look of itself,
stares all afternoon,
Its hard eye
Lifting the sheen 
from the glass,
turning the glaze
to rust.
Then we don’t see things
for dust.

The Beck Stone
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.

Equipment used to make this vlog:
Lumix g9 Camera,
Panasonic lumix g9, 8-18mm f2.8-4.0 Leica Lens,
Peak Design Capture Clip,
Rode Video Micro Mic,
Manfrotto Pixi Mini Tripod,
Manfrotto X Pro 4 section Monopod,
Atlas Athlete Backpack,
Edited using :
Adobe Premiere Pro,