Oh, Bridge,
tell me your stories
of feet that tread your ribs
across peaceful chattering water
that laughs and plays
over rocks and roots and fish.
Tell me of giggling children
walking hand in hand
pointing and pounding,
scaring minnows from your shadow
as they trample
one side to the other.
Tell me of lovers
leaning across your rail
and into each other’s bodies
smiling at the pair of ducks
wading warily near their nest
beneath your sheltering belly.
Tell me of the weary
whose souls bear scars
of love and death and sorrow
who sigh heavily
upon broken dreams
while pondering silvery depths.
Tell me of the aged
with deeply carved planes
and backs bowed
by the burden of living,
as your bowed spine
bears their weary weight.
Oh, Bridge,
tell me your stories.
