Timber Bridge

by Eve Castle

It stands between here
and there
festival music and laughter tap along the water
from the distant lake shore
blurred smiling faces of togetherness
sink into me. I continue upon it.

My step echoes off the emptiness
below the timbers and above the lake.
A sudden deep gurgling at my right
a tangerine fin flash, one fantastical koi
large as a leg, spashes a hello along the surface
I inhale surprise, exhale wonder, trip on my own feet
find myself face down on the planks
peering through slats to the water below
my resolve for the moment has ended.

Merriment continues to my left and koi play to my right
the water below, calm mirror saying, “you can’t walk on me.”

I close my eyes, smell the cut wood, imagine the fingerprints
of wood carpenters, the footprints of those who crossed before me
I see years of wind, sun and rain. Feel the solid smoothness.

I right myself, look for the larger than life fish
see only two turtles on two separate logs
looking in two separate directions.

I turn away and walk toward the celebration on the outlying shore.

This poem resulted out of an actual walk on a bridge and an actual fish (although I really didn't fall down ;0), I said koi here but i have no clue what kind of fish it was, most likely carp. It was huge, it was gold and it was very spectacular, but it got me thinking of the purpose of a bridge... to cross an obstacle, in this case a body of water. We all are faced with crossing something that for us "is as big as a lake" and can hold surprises and beauty. For me this turned into a poem about getting on the other side of something big as a lake. That "lake" could be a number of things to a number of people. Sometimes we resolve to do something along our path as we attempt to get across, but something larger than life can cause us to pause and reflect and may even change where we were going.

In regard to the craft all I can say is for this poem, I grabbed onto the experience of simply walking across a brige and started to describe it. I wasn't sure where it would take me but after pounding at it, thinking on it, reflecting on it, it ended here - a poem about transitions. Not completely finished, but closer.