A bridging we will go
Cheers Patrick (ancient)
Ps I did get a bit overcome with 'w' alliterating at one point:-)
-----Original Message-----
From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
Behalf Of Max Richards
Sent: 19 October 2011 00:21
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: snap: foot-bridges
Foot-Bridges
Ruffey Park has four foot-bridges
offering multiple experiences -
try first the large bridge southwest
between wetland (with purple
swamp-hens) and lake proper:
spaciously the decking widens
as for a wide-angled bay window.
Take a breather, leaning a while,
elbows on the timber rail,
held by the long level view
to the north, and, on its higher
elevation, the green-turfed bank
(raised when the old orchardists' creek
was dammed and tamed into a lake).
This is great for contemplating
paddling water-birds' slow wakes
widening, intersecting, weakening,
and the lake-wide ruffle effects
of passing breezes, minor squalls.
Time your visit right, you'll get
a moon above benignly steady,
a lake-moon tremulous below.
Step along now to where rock-lined
Ruffey Creek at the south-east
pauses at the concrete weir,
flows under this second bridge
and widens as lake with water-reeds.
The rocks nearby on the left protruding
from grass - on warm summer mornings
they're graced by a snake or two (tigers,
by the looks) dispelling chill
from their coils, alert maybe
for spring's ducklings
or frogs, most seasons.
If it's spring, count
the ducklings. Tomorrow
they may be fewer. This bridge
(like the others) is where dogs
converge from four directions,
territory contestable,
needing diplomacy
and firmly gripped leash.
After a cloudburst the creek
in spate is best viewed here.
Upstream the third bridge
is the one most fancied for
the venerable sport
of 'pooh-sticks': twigs
dropped from the eastern rail
take their time reaching
downstream to the west,
occasioning naive pleasure.
The fourth bridge, in disrepair,
lacks distinction. A friend
has mentioned she once saw from it
a native rat on a rock stationed
by the meagre creeklet trickle.
An acquaintance tells me his dog
off-leash proudly caught a rat down there,
ignoring it's protected by law.
This bridge crosses an unnamed
tributary of Ruffey Creek
emerging at the park edge
from a huge pipe labelled
Danger: Sudden Flood -
Bad Air - May Cause Death.
This stormwater drain is bridged
by my very own home street,
which I hadn't meant to mention.
None of the bridges would suit
Kyoto or Giverny, but they do us.
They keep us intimate with the lake.
Otherwise we'd trudge the hard
hilltop circuit, head in air -
all panorama and perspective,
horizons of parkside houses,
hazy hints of hinterland hills -
running out of puff, footsore.
On these bridges you feel
both grounded and uplifted.
They rest all night silent
till we tramp in next day chatting
amongst ourselves about flora
and fauna, sky and water,
not their supporting steadiness,
strong planks and water under.
Max Richards
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