Camelback Bridge

The maples and oaks gently caressed its wooden beans with their tender spring evergreen leaves. The scent of a new beginning, the birth of nature nestled, blooming in the dominate presence of its shadow. Lavender mingling with blooming lilacs danced amongst the sunshine beams shining through its trusses, the sun slowly warming the wooden columns.

The trail running underneath the arches of the Phoenix iron quakes with the pounding of the earth. The footfalls of runners pass under, the marathoners, the sprinters, the everyday person passing underneath, hardly a second glance, absorbed with the modern technology in hands. No question of purpose, no awe in its still existence in our modern world. They pass underneath the wooden bridge, unknown to them the past existing in our everyday Present.

Year by year passes. The Camelback Bridge surviving winter’s hellish fury of the barrage of ice and snow, warmed by the birth of new spring and budding trees and blooming flowers, standing strong amongst the oppressive heat of summer, and shrouded in crispy red, yellow, and orange leaves of fall. It’s existence once long forgotten, its people who formed its columns and fitted iron into to place, its purpose now gone with the wind. Standing erect and dignified, the Bridge refuses to bow down to time. It once enveloped in soft snow grey steam as trains would run past where runner trace over the worn out path. Lost to a time where modernity has slowly invaded the land. The mighty Camelback bridge, a piece of history unknown to those who pass under its towering arches. A piece of history, lost in time, forever shrouded in mystery, stands out of place in our world of modernity.-- Robert Downey