Oh, Bridge,
tell me your stories
of the feet that tread your ribs
across the peaceful chattering water
that laughs and plays
over rocks and roots and fish.

Tell me of the giggling children
walking hand in hand
pointing and pounding,
scaring the minnows from your shadow
as they trample across
from one side to the other.

Tell me of the lovers
as they lean across your rail
and into each other’s bodies
smiling at the pair of ducks
that wade warily near their nest
beneath your sheltering belly.

Tell me of the weary ones
whose souls bear scars
of love and hate, death and sorrow
and sigh heavily
upon broken dreams
while pondering the silvery depths.

Tell me of the old ones
with deeply carved planes
and backs bowed
from the burden of living,
as your bowed spine
bears their weary weight.

Oh, Bridge,
tell me your stories
of life.