Poetry About Brooklyn Bridge

Cables rise into the pale morning. The river flashes between wooden slats. Runners, bicycles, and workers pass. Stone towers hold their patient distance. Every crossing renews an old decision. Two shores become one route beneath our feet.

The visible thing is only an entrance. The river flashes between wooden slats. Behind it waits a more difficult truth. Stone towers hold their patient distance. Silence gives the question room to deepen. Two shores become one route beneath our feet.

Cables rise into the pale morning. Time moves, but the image does not leave. Runners, bicycles, and workers pass. It returns us to stone towers, cables, river wind, commuters, history, and the human need to connect two shores. Every crossing renews an old decision. The day continues with a more attentive heart.