Stretched across the ravine,
the walking bridge
is covered with snow.
Steam lifts from the narrow river bed below.
The hand guided ropes are glazed over with ice.
Raccoon tracks are pepper sprinkled in front of me
like virgin markers leaving a fresh, first trail.
Once across, and safe,
I toss yellow bread crumbs across white snow
for starving birds.
Michael Lee Johnson, Illinois, USA
1 comment:
I love this poem, the care for the birds and the way this is also a thanks to nature for keeping the narrator safe while crossing the bridge.
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