the partially washed out bridge abutments
as the night's shadows stole the traveler's daylight
once a favorite passage spanned rivers wide, now where journeys end;
once there was a way to the other side of the turbulent waters,
crossing over the whitewater boulder field to the distant washed out cut bank.
the abrupt pavement break dead ended
the pothole strewn abandoned road less traveled,
where raging river washed out the shoreline of the rocky shoal
an unexpected perfect storm’s lightning bolts
snuck up like summer heat lightning turned cobalt blue,
gravity’s flash flood from mountain high sky
the avalanche came crashing down without warning
moving mountains, carving a new pathway with nature’s unstoppable wrath
the gentle bend in the mellow meandering river’s flow now forked unrecognizable.
the bridge that linked that lonesome valley
had left an island ghost town
just beyond the washed out bridge
those that did not heed the warning signs
save for the memory of the forgotten essence of the ancient bridge,
sat at the beclouded mountain waters margin;
now at crossroads burdened in the torn of doubt,
not wanting to go back where the only labyrinth passage
bestow an island whence secluded came ...
It takes an island to build a bridge...
Thank you for your reads and support...
be well all... ~ peace on the planet ~
harlon rivers
