River rambles and curves,
shallow then deep,
rocky or smooth,
changeable as the weather.
Under the bridge are dark places,
deep pools with hidden depths.
The biggest fish hide there.
Aquatic plants sway
in the current, roots unseen.
The burbling water
covers whispers made, but
sounds echo above,
in the dim covered bridge,
where magic dwells.
Gossamer webs hold fast
lingering traces of lovers past.
Children, clapping hands
and believing in fairies,
once danced here.
Their shadows remain
sweetening the breezes.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: These photographs were taken in New Hampshire in the White Mountains.