Under the Low Bridge
The ghost of spray paint haunts its walls
where the creek rocks bear the weight of years
under the low bridge
is a crossroads of two creeks meeting
The creek rocks bear the heavy weight of years
where the hill dreams in quiet murmur
this nexus point connection
the moss is green, and deep underfoot
Where the gurgle of a hillside stream sings
in this crossroads of creek water
the water is colder here
there’s something cavern like under the bridge
Its opening a tunnel between two creeks
under the low bridge
spelunking without a cave
there was the ghost of spray paint haunting its walls
3 thoughts on "Under the Low Bridge"
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So many of your titles are great! I love this poem.
There’s something captivating about the words you juxtapose–creek rocks, hill dreams, gurgle of a hillside stream sings.
The covered bridge on my road, yes, a real one and very old, would love it that you with all your talent would give us such a vivid description of the Colville Bridge.