Boy At A Bridge: Spring And Fall
  • Spring

    Watching the wind unwind off the river’s face
    Creates in him a feeling he can’t quite name.
    Intently he stared into a corrugated
    Pool of jade, hearing (but not) its musical
    Slop and heave, the sousing waves. On either side
    Of him, a corridor of cottonwoods flank the river
    Into its bight — like lime-green giants gnashing
    In slo-mo. Stripped to the waist, sun-burnished,
    Levis slack about the rear, a face
    So serious, so sad … There comes a frozen
    Moment when time hangs motionless on this
    Particular shore. The reeds go slack. Then
    Silver clouds scud in like a fleet of blimps. Colossal
    Shadows invade. He sees the trees invert on the
    Swollen depths that mirror his face against the knife-
    White heavens. He remembers that this is his life.


    Far off the fat sun drips, like a bloody egg yolk
    Above the sea. Southward, huge thunderheads
    Hang their indigo slants of rain.
    The west wind quivers. From the bridge
    He’d stared for hours, watching below him
    The sunset’s raspberry leak, the gray water swirl.
    Behind, the asphalt stunk and gleamed.
    Foreign insects teemed. Long he stared, as one transfixed,
    By light or shadow or the silent depths below
    That inexorably flowed from his vision’s range,
    Carrying as they went the heavy half-green leaves
    Which fell dying but, he saw, made occasional
    Ripples on this old wrinkled surface
    Before see-sawing into the cold.
    Then darkness came. Still he stood. He stood scowling
    Into the churning depths, yearning, alone.

About The Author

I was born and raised in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado. I've worked as a short-order cook, construction laborer, crab fisherman, janitor, bartender, pedi-cab driver, copyeditor, and more. I've written and ghostwritten several published books and articles, but no matter where I've gone or what I've done to earn my living, there's always been literature and learning as the constant in my life.

6 Responses and Counting...

  • Johi 05.31.2012

    You truly are a gifted writer, Ray. Soul stirring stuff here.

  • Thank you very much.

  • Brilliant first line for both spring and fall. I love the light and the colour and the intense longing in this piece – beautiful words Ray.

  • Thank you, Avril. Thank you very much.

  • Timeless.

    Thank you.

  • Thank you, Miss Maura.

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