A cacophony of slate
Uneven and sharp, yet
Permanent, bending, un-mathematically,
Across the non-judgmental beck;
Shaded by lithe willow limbs;
Embracing the arch in geniality
Not consolation; antiquated yet swan-like

Never shorn of company;

Evoking a love, unpremeditated in its sculpture

 A beauty expressed by the universality of
Pencil and lens, lacking the significance perhaps, it
Sleeps, cossetted upstream, benevolently cradled
In a vale between these munificent hills

​

 Today no footfall or hoof
Burdens the mottled stone, the traffic
Reliant now on smoother brick down river,
Spanning the widest point, more
Streamlined than its predecessor;
Safer, un-photographed