Beaten-in-dirt-roads led us to
a foggy marsh you called the place to be.
Our heads kept still as we watched
eggs hatch beneath the algae.
Our bodies swaying like the limbs
of a willow we almost forgot about.

Preoccupied with catching tadpoles,
we never noticed temptation
creeping up behind tomorrow.
Aggravated, he whispered:
I'm waiting.