BAR ISLAND, BAR HARBOR

  

At certain times of day your wheels can drive

Along the sand bar stretching to extend

From town across the bay to the island,

Before your tracks get swallowed by the tide

Where whelks cling and myopic lobsters thrive.

There you can park upon the farther shore,

Beside a sign that warns lest you ignore

The moon-conducted waters when they rise.

Consider the experience of two

Green tourists who in their expensive jeep

Parked there and went exploring, when twelve feet

Of Frenchman’s Bay had gone to sea. They rued

The day they kayaked out to some far isle

And back again to lose their vehicle.