the trestle …

the forest was cut away
with life slowly returning to form
i made my way down an embankment
onto grounds where the br&p railway once lay
a blanket of snow covered its tracks
what i believed was solid ground
turned into a bog
standing ankle deep
in freezing cold water
i stepped up to the rail-bed
and made my way into the forest
a winter wonderland
in early november
hopping over downed trees
and crackling through dead
i slogged my way to the trestle
a rusty orange contrasted
the powdery white velvet
i looked out
to what seemed like forever
what awaited me on the other side of that bridge
it’d have to wait for another day …


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