River (Bridge)

It comes and flows in showers
soft seeping silt
That wraps around the iron snow
softly singing, grating
empty
When it’s gone
And days are quilted in night’s arms,
we have a lot to say,
Like spines grinding slowly
on stiff polyester.
It came when we had a direction and slowly
a sentence that made its
way around the block
and came back for something left
to sing
I took your dream
And spun its seems
out of hewn cloth.
In paths of dark willow
I’ve seen
Branches
Closer than
I care to see again
I’ve seen their intricacies
in the river
And in the folds of flowers
Writhing whilst crossing,
Shown softly in light
Cast from above and to the left
Cast from a whirring
A bleating and a beeping
A bump in the bridge
Reluctant to cross