Down in the river, these remains stood, each one a talisman to the past. Except for the past year’s drought, they would be covered in water, with only the tallest of them poking a slight head above water.
They are what remains of a railroad bridge, the shadow of the current steel and concrete bridge is seen at the far left on the opposite riverbank. Fallen tree branches are caught in the old wood, along with the autumn leaves, making a temporary stop on the road to destruction. Part of the cycle of life.
The old passes, but in the case of this discarded bridge foundation, not swiftly at all.