The Covered Bridge
Tired timbers creak and groan;
lonely bones now brittle,
once proud and strong when
bearing the harvest weight.
The wagons and muscular engines
were no burden for my
young and supple limbs.
Spanning the Connecticut,
green to granite -
I miss the melody
of wheels and hooves;
the morning breaths
floating and settling among
my rafters - dripping
in the noon heat.
Carriages where whispers
echo between my latticed
trusses and clandestine truths
and lies were lost in the shadows
where tears of both joy
and pain are forever hidden.
Below, the river perpetually runs
like life and time,
always moving, never waiting,
and testing our will
to carry on...
Copyright © Craig Cornish | Year Posted 2022
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