They said rowboat
lost untethered
with the ebb tide
one day late Fall.
She was to wait
but waded off
he back for the basket
she in search of shells.
He forgot the sandwiches
in the car up the road
and the redundant bottle
of purple pinot noir.
From the pier end
she fell hell bent
and got her into
the boat and off
waddled he oaring
she at the tiller
crossing the bay
to the picnic beach
the old couple
coming years said
but the new owners
did not know them
said better keep
an eye out
not a good day
for crossing the bar.
The Coming of the Toads 