Bridge at Montezuma Slough

We drive to see
where the twisted road will lead.

Salty river, winding slough,
dark water
rising to frothy cap
slapping concrete pier,
moon driven waves race
back to beckoning bay.

Finally we must decide...
Cross the low bridge
or turn back.

But the flood is too close to the deck!

We feel tidal vibrations,
basso profundo,
rattle sub-sonic
in our ears
as together
we face our fear,

and slowly cross,
eyes always ahead
til again we feel sure earth
solid beneath our tread.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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