Construction of a new 72-foot bridge will begin in January 2019. Designed by Yakona project manager David Landrum, the bridge draws inspiration from the Yaquina Bay bridge and will feature many similar design elements. Pilings and stem walls were poured by hand during the autumn of 2018.
Strolling lost in thought, absorbed in the quietude
and late life musings that flitter by on a solitary ramble.
Without warning and breaking the hush
a sudden Whoosh! rises around me.
Frozen in a small panic, my mind racing
to make sense of … a fast car in the quiet woods?
Legs won’t move while confusion reigns.
Head tilting this way and that.
Ears attuned to every vibration.
Alert to confirmation yet desperate for refutation.
Just as suddenly the air fills with birdsong echoing from
tree limbs to forest floor reverberating into the spruce tops.
Moving as one, a great flock of tiny birds had lifted in unison
as I passed underneath their roost,
a multitude of delicate wings agitated the air and
created the noise that took me by surprise.
I startled them into action; they stopped me in my tracks.
Avian and human reactions collide in an instant along a woodland trail.
Deep in the forest,
most likely an elk, I surmise.
Were you wounded in a mating ritual
clash of titans or by a hunter,
instinct driving your desperate stumble
into secluded woods to die?
Did you merely, with Nature’s grace,
live out your time and lie down?
Your fur destined to line a nest,
flesh and marrow to
nourish new life and the soil.
A tableau deep in the woods centers my thoughts
on life and on death.
Does the why or the how of our own ending
count for so much?
I’d like my carcass to feed this place
that ceaselessly nurtures my soul.
carries the snow with its own grace
bends to the breeze with its own sway
etches the clouds with its own stroke
bows to the ice with its own resolve
rights its trunk clenched by its own roots
drenches itself in its own desire
and creates its own spring.
Lois Levin Roisman