Photograph of a Wooden Bridge

This wooden bridge Is photographed in black and white. There are some such not so rotted down, Barely wide enough for passersby Or boys to ride their bikes upon. Serenely seen in gentle arcs From landscape photos from one side, This point of view is dead on straight. Its rustic planks make no apology For lovers tripping unromantically. I have heard that men Who often go to war Must break their stride So as not to bring thins kind of crossing Down with strident, marching feet. Its handrails are approximate. To touch for balance now and then. It is unwise to run your hands along AS even calloused hands can catch a splinter Making hard work hurt, and harder still Past the bridge, two chimneys are looming Up among the trees; rake boards descend Like vacant, ancient Roman ruins Behind the furthest building. Perspective lines must intersect.. Beyond what we can see.