Turkey Hill Bridge was one of the longest covered bridges in New Hampshire, spanning the Souhegan River in Merrimack at 124 feet in length. It was constructed in 1859. It stood for over a hundred years until it was torched by an arsonist in 1968. This poem was read by my niece, Madeliene Kerr at a poetry slam in the Merrimack Public Library on April 18, 2013.
A Song For Turkey Hill Bridge
by Edward Hujsak
They knew their craft, those brawny,
browned, Yankee bridge builders.
On level ground they measured, spliced, mortised,
drilled and joined with hardwood pegs
twin truss works of virgin timber to span,
unsupported, Souhegan's breadth.
They hoisted them upright, then with
block and tackle and sweating mules
they edged the structures across the stream
and lifted them onto stone abutments.
They paved the space between them
with thick wood planks, laid side by side.
They sheathed the walls with new-sawn boards,
raised a roof and topped it with split cedar singles.
They left openings tall enough and wide enough
for loaded hay ricks to pass through.
The last nail driven, they gathered 'round
and gazed upon the finished work,
glowing gold in the afternoon sun.
Someone raised a gallon jug
and named it Turkey Hill Bridge,
amidst cheers and swigs and smiling eyes.
For a hundred years and more
this bridge beat out the measures
of the longest symphony, impromptu, in
the clop clop clop of iron shod hooves,
rumbling of steel-rimmed wagon wheels
clacking loosely on their axles.
Screams and shouts of children's voices
vaulting to the rafters to stir the echoes,
and later the tick tick tick of Model-T engines
and the unmuffled roar of tractor exhausts.
Wintery interludes of icy silence
(a long pause between movements)
and adagios on summer evenings
when nesting pigeons cooed
and swallows chirped their way
into and out of the shelter.
Where lovers met to make a wish,
carve initials, hearts and arrows,
laugh above the river's burble,
then drift away on pathways
lit by starlight and fireflies..
