This is a bridge between summer term and autumn,
Weather-bleached boards
across a Cornish creek
where tidal waters ebb and ease,
where riverweed dances
to the ocean’s pulse,
where armoured crabs
battle underwater
and treasure-fragments
await my discovery.
This is a bridge between truth and myth:
I press my ear to the creaking timbers,
sensing the ancient steps
of a persecuted saint
who walked a half-mile
to reach this bridge,
cradling his own
decapitated head.
I taste his salt-tears,
sharp to my tongue,
hear teardrops
flow to a grieving sea.
This is a bridge between past and present:
I conjure visions
of colourful barges
docked at the quay
in bustling days of industry,
loaded with coal and limestone rocks
destined for the fiery kilns.
There are pack mules and horse drawn carts.
There are children gathered
to watch men at work.
This is a bridge between childlife and teenhood,
a place to catch eels, net crabs, to dive or float,
build driftwood rafts, watch bats by moonlight,
hunt for ghosts, read books, skim stones.
I text my friends but find there’s no signal,
scrawl a note instead and stick it in a bottle,
drop it in the water,
the twinkling river light
winks back
as my summer-self stands
between two worlds.
This as an evocative and skilful piece of writing, in which the control of line-length is particularly good, keeping the poem tight and economical. The development of the theme and setting from stage to stage of the poem is also excellent and, as someone who has taught poetry-writing at university level, I would say that this would do great credit to a writer ten years older.
This is a really great poem. I like the way it evokes the summer and particularly Cornish heritage.
I was stunned when I came across “Saint Wyllow’s Bridge” ystdy !
Many congratulations to Jennifer ! Watch out the future *_* …
I detested poetry at school and am now at the age whereupon looking back at my life, I know that I missed the essence of my cultural inheritance. I am a Canadian and I am not aware of St. Wyllow’s Bridge until I read your poem. As all good poetry should do, it instills in me a desire to also stand on your bridge and reflect on past and future life.
Howard Thompson