Bridge

A cacophony of slate
Uneven and sharp, yet
Permanent; bending, un-mathematically,
Across the non-judgemental beck,
Shaded by willow limbs;
Embraced in geniality
Not consolation

Antiquated yet swan-like,
Never lonely, evoking a love unpremeditated
In its sculpture, its beauty encapsulated in universal
Pencil and lens, perhaps not the significance, it
Sleeps, nestled upstream, benevolently cradled
In a vale between these munificent hills

Today no footfall or hoof
Burdens the dark stone, the traffic
Reliant now on smoother brick down river,
Spanning the widest point, more
Streamlined than its predecessor;
Safer, un-photographed