The bridge is made of strong stone, shaped with skill
Two towers, tree-like stand tall on either side
To guard the Way from the West, wide and winding
Across the fast flood of the flowing river
Into the town of Monmouth, mid-morning.
A thousand years the thoroughfare, thick with throngs
Of dwellings and domains, churches and chapels
Inns and eating places, shops and stalls
Has sloped up from the stream to the still meadows
And all alongside it, an array of attractions:
Clothing and crockery, corn and cattle
Axes and apples, geese and greengages
Scythes and scissors, books and beds and barrows
With folk of far countries following fast afoot
Tripping between traffic, tumbling and turning
And every bright shade shining from the shadows
Shifting and shimmering in the morning sun.

© Sue Anderson 2004