Two bridges.

Iron span,
set against stark white concrete.
No more than a couple of hundred metres apart.
An angle just off perpendicular make the backdrop,
wrought lattice, curved as well as crossed.
sits on top.
Grey, then black
and when night falls it’s all bought out in orange
and bathed in the river’s cold night haze,
damp air, warm glow.
The structures tower above
and the space between the two sides is devoured.
Struts, pillars and girders grasp the sky,
pushing back on the valley’s sides.
Separated like bickering siblings,
but always joined.

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