Memories, Hartland NB

Pebbles spray the wooden bridge
where cars hurry, places to go, late already

the ancient structure is a history of
craftsmanship, where little boys wheeled
bicycles, doll carriages and dogs slumbered by

listen to the thumping of tires as they race
over this river, once pure as white snow

innocent to gasoline fumes shouting defiance
at the freshness of each night.

Now a brocade of studded stars highlight
the yawning moon, its beam reflecting
river’s coiling mist, evening dreams still invite

sleepy ducks approaching the surface
and silent swoops capture rest in the shadows.

© Richard L. Provencher