The Evening Light

John Walker

John Walker

The evening light
plays tricks on the eyes
to the east the mountains
have all turned smokey`blue
when in fact they are simply gray
going brown with July heat
off to the west the islands
have gone smokey`rose
as if in response

Living in a city
we’d simply call it Smog
the way particulates gather
in over`populated air currents
refracting the failing light of day
On Island we just call it Grace
not exhaust from all the cars
but campfires of crabbers
boiling their catch

“And you, what are you looking for right now,
straining, earnest, heroic, keen,
from your deep, impenetrable darkness?” ~ John Hodgen


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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6 Responses to The Evening Light

  1. you have such gentle skills of language


  2. love those smokey islands…


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