“The Covered Bridge”

I came upon a covered bridge
Weather-beaten and old,
Where deep blue stream and wooded ridge
Were framed in twilight gold.

It was wonderful to see
A scene so old and quaint,
A rustic masterpiece
That only God could paint.

I stood by that old bridge,
And watched the stream flow by,
While gentle winds caressed the trees
That touched the Hoosier sky.

In that enchanted hour
My heart was deeply stirred,
Would God grant me the power
To paint that scene with words?

Could I, a humble poet,
Pass through the bridge of time;
And learn its treasured secrets,
Then put them into rhyme?

Could I, with words, portray
The sky, the stream, the ridge?
Would I, with words, betray
The secrets of the bridge?

The colors slowly faded
As the shadows crossed the stream;
Then, at last, the velvet darkness
Changed it all into a dream.

But God gave me a picture
To keep within my heart,
With all its rustic splendor,
A priceless work of art.

Yes, God gave me a picture
That can’t be bought or sold,
A picture of a covered bridge
Framed in twilight gold.

2 thoughts on ““The Covered Bridge””

  1. I adore the imagery of a poet betraying a bridge’s secrets. Lovely!

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