Djelloul Marbrook: The Bridge

A small creek feeds our pond,

as well as underground springs,

and a bridge spans the creek

from the rear of our barn to a bog.

Over time the bridge broke down—

we sometimes move equipment over it

to plant in the bog and to bushhog

phragmites and underbrush—

so here you see a new 35-foot bridge

under construction. The rubble

of the old bridge is heaped at the foot

of an ash tree. The creek when placid

produces beautiful reflections of the sky.

On the other side of the pond a brook

leads away to the nearby Hudson River,

but first must go over a falls.

Some of the fish grown in our pond

now live in Central Park and Prospect Park

in New York City. I say hello to them on occasion.

.

Ed. note: this was originally a one-paragraph Facebook posting by Djelloul, but it scanned so perfectly that I divided the paragraph into lines and post it here as a poem.  Here’s the piece laid out as prose:

A small creek feeds our pond, as well as underground springs, and a bridge spans the creek from the rear of our barn to a bog. Over time the bridge broke down— we sometimes move equipment over it to plant in the bog and to bushhog phragmites and underbrush— so here you see a new 35-foot bridge under construction. The rubble of the old bridge is heaped at the foot of an ash tree. The creek when placid produces beautiful reflections of the sky. On the other side of the pond a brook leads away to the nearby Hudson River, but first must go over a falls. Some of the fish grown in our pond now live in Central Park and Prospect Park in New York City. I say hello to them on occasion.