A hard fall separate and divided
the returns bags of bottles
and illuminated cans
set lists of dying songs
and a guy in a brown study
disquieted over how much
everyone paid coprophagous
possum grin pocket change
and beer in his beard.
Heard not smelt nor sniped
learning to relax and unblame
to understand every Tom
Dick and Harry and Sue
Jane and Mary their woes
worries whys and wherefors
until the body oak cask aged
slows to a broken bicycle crawl
drink from a cold army canteen.
In fall when worry turns
to gold and rust the lorry
covered with lurry tarps
and no leary ear longing trips
by the river down the valley
to the coast faraway swells
ocean crossed turn to waves
everything that ever came
breaks in this only moment.
The Coming of the Toads 