On the Suspension Bridge

Last week's Big Tent Poetry prompt gave us the opportunity to cure ourselves of whatever ails us. Since I'm a bit tired of winter right now, I chose to imagine springtime at the suspension bridge over the Spokane River at the Bowl and Pitcher. I also am preparing to teach some of my students about blank verse, so I wound up trying my hand at it. I'm not sure of the results, but here you go...

On the suspension bridge my feet face south
Spring’s swollen current rushes past below
The river, through with February’s chore
Of churning sediment from melting ice,
Is free to rush in aquamarine haste
While I bend from my waist and launch my mind
Out on the river’s triumphant stampede
Inevitable motion! It is mine--
I give myself to its wet urgency
And overpower solid rocks and stones
We glory in the lack of should and will
And gush and rush and spray out do and now
But all this happens while my feet stand still
And calmly wait on the suspension bridge
Through wood and water’s kind duality
I know myself as anchor and as sail