Sun sets
across the bay,
adorns the surface
with pre-Raphaelite curls
of light.
Lighthouse takes up
where it last left off,
old but competent enough
to guide boats away from shallows.
Gulls skim for the last time,
cormorants perch on rocks,
dry off their backlit wings.
Tide pools fester with brine shrimp.
A fishing vessel. tattooed by barnacles,
bumps against the pier.
The island beach stretches
toward the mainland
with a proffered hand of sand
but is refused.
Swimmers drag themselves
back to shore.
Shell collectors gather up their haul.
A promising tan
is cut short by a blast of cold sea wind.
A whale is sighted in the distance.
It breaches for a moment then is gone.
The island breaches for 12 hours or more,
then night closes in
and it too is gone.
