View from a High Footbridge

by Ronald Moran


At dusk, I watch the first-love couples walk
a trail
above this rocky but free-flowing river,
its
banks steeped in arrogance, its currents
bizarre,

although the lucky ones know that once love,
like a laser,
cut through the soft veneer of innocence,
revealing
shock and delight that enlighten and clarify,
like clear,

cold waters of this river, unnamed, unknown;
but
to them, now, for the first, unforgettable time,
and, yes,
they want to be alone together, as all of us
do

or did at one time, the best time of our lives,
holding
and holding on until the unearthly bell began
tolling,
It’s time, it’s time enough. Find yourselves,
sweet loves.

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