Poem: Bridge

Walk over Whatcom Creek
Rot filled reed twirls on axle
in a current heading toward the bay
wave hiccups over, turns white
if only for a second to breathe
Grass flat on the shore 
exposes all that rest here 
in the cold under arch 
pressed and fluttered
stuff with down
Frogs sleep in mud
hidden below snails and slugs
hand knit stitch surrounds my head
Shoes trace the lines over water
Walk over Whatcom Creek
Japanische Bruecke, 1899
by Claude Monet
S.P. Laws
National Poetry Month | Poem a Day
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