Beneath a wooden bridge
creaking
beside the park
the river is a swirl
of foam-filled bubbles
loose branches
meandering in the stream
a southerly flow.
Around the bend ripples
overcome a bridge
of stone. Aware of my presence
a squirrel skitters upwards.
I am a child of my past,
peanut butter fingers
fishing with a worm hooked
below the surface.
A nearby plaque:
“In ’36 three men entombed
141 feet below, seeking crowns
of gold within the granite,
one man died.”
Steeped in time, the village
is a story of pride
stapled to a gravel road,
mindful of its place in history.
© Richard L. Provencher
First published September/October 2010
Barrier Islands Review Issue 4
