Uncertain Bridges

The bridge over the creek
is never
straight.

Built in pieces,
a little suspended,
built to float.
Unsteady.
Uncertain.

Not to look at it,
something to build confidence
by the mere looking at it.
There is a temptation to forgo
the uneasy bridge
and take the long path
(Which, being unseen,
is equally unpredictable,
but not to your imagination)
around the pond.

More time.
But safer, or so you imagine.

But, look again.
The boards are dry, if a bit skewed.
They are grey, stained by sun and storms,
survivors. Perhaps
they are more sure than they seem,
and you choose
the uncertain bridge.

About this poem

About this little bridge, which is part of a local nature preserve. About faith. About making bold decisions. About love. Poetry is never about one thing. And nothing is certain.

The Photograph was taken at the Hebron, NY Nature Preserve. Just a few miles from my house in West Pawlet, Vermont.

Be well. Travel wisely,

Tom