The road almost meets the sky
as I drive my tiny green car
across the bridge.

Its like I can imagine my car falling
off into the oblivion below
the bridge, at least from the
sight I see.

There aren't too many cars
around me, so I steal a glance
to my right and see the sunbeams
dancing on top of the water.

The boats are just starting to
dash across the St. Johns River,
the slight current rushing them
along the 300 mile ride.

Satisfied with the beauty to my right,
I turn to my left and see similar
sights, of birds flying over the
water and the lush greenery
that Florida is blessed by.

But in the midst of it all
there is one thing that can
be seen that brings no
peace: pollution.

The smoke billows from
large chimneys, chimneys
that remind me of the fireplace
that my grandma once had until
she decided it was no longer
Earth-friendly.

The fire is burning hot somewhere
within that building and its coughing
out chemicals straight into the
baby blue sky.

The sky cries and the angels
watch with shock-filled eyes
at how clumsy and clueless
humans can be.

All of this beauty is tinkering
on the bridge of the St. Johns River,
all of this pollution is murdering
the flow of it all.