Every day I cross that bridge at sunrise
Or sometimes later when the alarm is too early
and I am not yet ready to leave the beauty of my last dream
And sometimes earlier when the earth tilts outward
as her orbit takes her closer to the sun.
Every day I watch the sky as I descend the hill
Excited by sun-sparked colors, grey cloud swirls, or blue sky
Imagining reflections, fearing the moment has passed.
Every day I climb the ramp, distracted driver
seeking a glimpse of water
Smooth to reflect the sky, disturbed by wind or churned by barges
Craning to catch a magic moment or crestfallen
when no magic appears.
I do not stop every day to find the place between two bridges
The downstream bridge I cross, the upstream bridge I observe.
But sometimes sun kisses water and bridge and sky and I am there.