The Bridge Where The Dandelions Cling Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

As I stand 'neath the cracks
Where the dandelions cling
To the bridge as the water lies still,
In the shade of its arch
On the old cobbled path
Where the bricks yield a cavernous chill.

And I hear there the drum
Of the raindrops that fall
And see puddles that form on the ground,
Till the sunlight breaks through
That unshakable mass
And does shine on the land all around.

As I stare from the arch
At the pasture beyond
Where the cattle so peacefully graze,
In the field through the hedge
Where the blossom does hang
On the hawthorn in bounteous displays.

As the stormy clouds pass
On the winds that do blow
Through the branches and boughs it does wend,
I still wait 'neath the bridge
Where the dandelions cling
And I watch as the raindrops descend.