The Hartland Bridge

is old and cranky, its spider-web design

wood dehydrated. An historic memory

unvarnished, casting a long shadow over

the St John River --

tourist cameras snap and flicker

straw hats pasted to foreheads

squeal of children

chasing across

uneven wooden planks

old men and ladies

cross the same way too.

Once these elders were without

arthritis nor

bones protruding

from withered frames.

They kissed in the shadows

of original structure --

not many covered bridges

left standing

nor occupied by modern

people like you and me

who enjoy a walk in history.