Recovering from Estrangement


Broken bridges
can be mended
as long as we exist
but only if both ends
stubbornly persist.



Whenever I feel old
I look at the lights across the water
On that bridge older than I
I think of elms and oaks
And all the children they have sheltered
Playing underneath their scarred boughs
Compared to many things
I am like a comet
A streak of light
Momentarily glimpsed
And smiled upon by that
Eternal eye