The Water Below the Old Bridge
The water below the old bridge was still
listen to its siren song
the surface was a sheet of looking glass
you could see rich depths and details
Can you hear the hushed sound
Rusalka and other monsters might drown you
down there where the old stories whisper
what dangers swam below the deeper fog
The water was still, a Rusalka pool
ledges and green algae were its paint
but even that was a mystery
you could almost see the bottom
Rich details painted on creek rock
the surface was a sheet of glass
you could see eight feet deep
the water below the old bridge was clear
2 thoughts on "The Water Below the Old Bridge"
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Very cool idea for a poem. Love — “what dangers swam below the deeper fog.”
This reads as if you have stood on the bridge over Troublesome in Hindman. The sweetness of that creek has inspired more than one poet, I imagine.