Here we are at the end of February, which often feels like winter’s midpoint, and this week’s poem positions us on a bridge between the frozen and the flowing. I love the fluid music of Brian Evans-Jones’s brief lines, and the ephemeral flux of its river’s imagery in shifting blacks, whites and grays.

Evans-Jones is a former poet laureate of Hampshire, United Kingdom, and now lives in South Berwick. He was the poetry winner of the 2017 Maureen Egen Writers Exchange Award from Poets & Writers, and he teaches creative writing in southern Maine and seacoast New Hampshire.

Under The Bridge, A River

By Brian Evans-Jones

Late February: the whole of one winter
white on the rocks, and between runs
black water. Gray snow beneath
is translucent, a breath.

In the shallows, black stones
shed ripples. One quivers,
dips, then
raises its head, opens its wings.

Megan Grumbling is a poet and writer who lives in Portland. Deep Water: Maine Poems is produced in collaboration with the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. “Under The Bridge, A River,” copyright © 2015 by Brian Evans-Jones, appears by permission of the author.


Only subscribers are eligible to post comments. Please subscribe or login first for digital access. Here’s why.

Use the form below to reset your password. When you've submitted your account email, we will send an email with a reset code.

filed under: