Today we cross a bridge . . .
Blue sky-arch reaches out from island shore,
And softly lays its head upon the land.
Summer air, bee-buzzing, swoop-winging o'er,
And ev'ning heat guards all with sun-warm hand.
The ancient stones are guarding waters run,
And boats are swinging softly on the tide.
The trees hang low, all tired now, from the sun
And gulls are standing by the waterside.
The bridge that stands and holds the road to keep
The path from isle to mainland, strong and low,
Carries mem'ries footprint, old thoughts sunk deep
Into the pitted tar, o'er waters flow.
And ever still the wild Atlantic stream
Will pass this way, the harbinger of dreams.
© 2ndwitch, 28/04/15
Inspired by visiting The Bridge Over the Atlantic last summer.
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