Sharp evening birds shadow the sun setting across the water; in dreams the ocean comes to full river. Many times we've climbed this bridge weeds changing the color of the water, stirring glints of conversation the uplift in the veins beating a flight to autumn.
I hear your string of broken bird call raucous and wild as years turn it to echo; Startling paleness a reverie of winter's chill how boneless is bird flight. the solace of wings.
Now there is only one where once there were two.
clipped wings the imprint of fossils the rain's guilty tones smearing the dirt
Planks wobble, set as they are haphazard, uneven.
Now there's a blur of impressions, the nonsensical strings in a litany of sound Today, . . . reflecting on you, I walk this bridge alone, touching air no one else can see, one step at a time, learning to be ME.