Falling

She remembers the
feeling of
falling
falling
falling
down a thousand
feet to the
creek below

The creek bed lie
swirling
swiftly
moving
in the rainy
windy
afternoon

She could see the
pebbles
smooth
glass
reflections
greeting

Then the bridge
swinging
stilled
silencing
her fears

She trembled as
hanging on
she saw him
waiting

The other side
beckoning she
moved forward

She no longer
was falling

Years ago now I went on a hiking trip with some friends and my teenage son. The foot bridge across the stream below was closed so we climbed to the top to another way across, a swinging bridge with rope for hand holds and wooden slats that were not very close to one another. When we arrived it began raining and the wind was strong. My son went straight across but I remained glued to the spot. I don’t do well with heights and I’ve never again went across another swinging bridge. There was only room for one person at a time to walk. Quite an experience.