Moose River, Nova Scotia

Beneath a wooden bridge
a-creaking
beside the park

a river swirls in a soufflé
of foam-filled bubbles
loose branches
meandering in the stream

a southerly flow.

Around the bend ripples
overcome a bridge
of stone. Aware of my presence
a squirrel skitters upwards.

I am a child of my past,
peanut-butter fingers
fishing with a hooked worm
below the surface.

A nearby plaque:
“In ’36 three men entombed
141 feet below, seeking crowns
of gold within the granite,
one man died.”

Paged in time, the village
is somber at attention
stapled to a gravel road

where peace and simplicity
is a windy lullaby.

© Richard L. Provencher