August 27*

evening
front stalled at far edge of sound
light on water looks
a weak yellow acid
prickled with
indeterminate wind, tide

is this the end of summer?
i am not sure.

porpoise breaks the surface
once
way out

never reappears

was it really there?
did it happen?
i am not sure.

and the yellow light
is now grey, purple, silver –
either the gentled warm of summer
or the uneasy foreboding of autumn

i am not sure

*Copyright 2010 by Luther Allen. This poem appears in The View from Lummi Island.