Poetry: Footbridge

Footbridge AVR 1998

Abe V Rotor

1. I walked the bridge to its far end and beyond,
And down the river to the sea I cast my pole.
It was a fight I fought, it was no longer game,
And it was neither fish nor dream I caught.

2. Tranquility reigns on her face, rage in her breast,
If beauty exudes best from a spring of force,
I do not wonder at the shyness of a crest,
And the power of a single rose.

3. I touched the towering figure and I was touched,
Transported to Gulliver’s land for a moment;
To meet the maker, a simple man from the hills,
Unschooled, yet his burin sings the glory of Greece.

4. Pygmies make giants, for the little man dreams what he misses.
Humble is he, painstakingly working on his stead,
Until a Genie rises from his hands, mirror of a great soul.
Lo, a pupil I am, doubting my skill, my goal.

5. Many years ago you had another name -
Gleaners, and work was also game.
Now it’s all work and the art of the vulture,
And those with fangs and ugly mane.
But if none is waste and waste is useful -
Would your breed thrive just the same?

Don't Cut the Trees, Don't - UST-AVR