Leaves have fled as have the birds, wind's icy fingers frost the valley and the river flows cold.
Bridges always draw attention but sometimes more so in a bleak landscape. In summer's warm cover they are not so visible, a lessened tendency to ponder crossing to somewhere else. But now, this arc stands starkly, a reminder that it may allow us to be more rapidly somewhere we might not otherwise be.
This may not be beautiful but its steel script is an invitation to cross. Look on the other side. The sun brightens directional signs. Maybe a new destination. Maybe a formerly known landscape to be found again.