I love this image near where I live. It is the distant rusted bridge over a creek. As seen from the up close concrete bridge under a road. That captures me. Got me thinking. And writing.
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People That Bridge Us
There are people that bridge us,
that transport us,
from that to this.
Ones that wake near,
eyes slow to open,
yet with grinning first smile,
light the hearth path whole.
There are people that bridge us,
that travel with us,
from there to here.
Ones that companion the days,
caring for the ordinaries,
yet with delighting anticipation,
celebrate the magic extraordinary.
There are people that bridge us,
that traverse with us,
from lost to loved.
Ones that insist bloom,
sturdy amongst steady winds,
yet with Day Lilly softness,
whisper the home long sought.
