by Richard L. Provencher
3/28/2011 / Poetry
Pebbles spray this oldest in the world New Brunswick bridge, cars hurrying, places to go, late already, its wooden structure a history of craftsmanship where children wheel bicycles, doll carriages and dogs chase. Listen to thumping tires as their vehicles race over the river, pebble-spraying below; once long ago the water was pure for healthy gulps while laying on belly from the shore, such drinks soothing. Now gasoline fumes and oil dribble out defiance at the freshness of this night even though a brocade of studded stars highlight moon's yawn, reflecting river's coiling mist, the evening an invitation for sleepy ducks settling on the river surface, their silent swoops capturing rest in the shadows of ancient memories.
Copyright - Richard L. Provencher
Dear Readers: My wife, Esther and I, are pleased to share our Copyright work which you may use freely for non-commercial purposes. We appreciate all comments on our efforts. Send to: email@example.com. We live in Truro, Nova Scotia, Canada. Pray for family and friends. Also learn to forgive.
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