RIVER BRIDGE
Quiet observer:
you guard the river,
whether it rages in foamy fury
against your pillars
or when it gently laps
around your feet.
Wind and rain scrubbed
your knobby reptile skin,
muted your fiery red
into flaky grey.
Still, I sense the heat
that steeled you.
Steadfast guardian:
you reach upwards
to the swaying trees,
always firm amidst
this green exuberance.
Sometimes,
I am strong like you,
peeling face thrust
into the storm.
Sometimes,
I dance in the tree tops
drinking emeralds and gold.
And always,
your strong, clear lines
lead the way,
to the other side.
aloha Annette. i particularly like the last stanza here, i think you have defined the heart of “bridge” in that stanza. i also like in the stanza preceding that one the comparison you make between you and a bridge facing storm. cool. aloha.
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Thank you, Rick, for commenting. We inevitably put ourselves into whatever creative works we produce….
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