We cross three bridges

We cross three bridges

We cross three bridges
brave the electric bites of nettles
choose our picnic spot
on prickly brown grass
where cows come to drink

I wiggle bare toes
in the same soft July breeze
that brushes willow leaves
from sky to dark green water.
It sounds like rain
gnarled trunks and branches
squeak and crack like thunder

We unpack our small feast,
dutifully eat cold meats
and cold, pale melon chunks.
It is the glossy red strawberries
as big as tomatoes we are greedy for.
Pinky red juice drips down our chins
wind flicks drops onto my vest top

We could fall into endless sky
fall into clouds that waft above
if it wasn’t for the constant spin.
A squadron of skylarks bomb
a lazy hawk, until it flicks
round wings and wheels off

He takes leftover bread
rolls it in sticky palms,
aims for the long, languid fish.
They meander in the shadow of cigar
shaped leaves. He watches
this season’s batch
dart in the shallows
His thoughts carefully hoarded,
I am alone.

At the top of the field
cows come back after milking
More people are killed by cows
than shark attacks I say.
We fold the blanket upon itself
cross the first bridge in silence.
At the second, I tell him
The 1916 Mattawan Creek attacks
were probably bull sharks, not great whites

Single file we cross the last bridge,
he leads and holds
the grasping bramble branches clear,
stamps down nettles.
Sticky strawberry juice glues our palms
his fingers braid mine,
we hold on.


Rose Blackthorn
c2015

Comments

  1. Thank you for sharing your poem, beautifully written.
    Sx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you lovely. I thought it was time I showed what I was working on.
      xx

      Delete
  2. "We could fall into endless sky
    fall into clouds that waft above
    if it wasn’t for the constant spin.
    " - Art and science beautifully combined.

    Lovely, Roses!

    ReplyDelete

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