by Emily Gingrich

The moon is nesting in the trees
Beyond the gleaming bay.
She’s crossing lacy strands of light
Leftover from today.

The curve of light, like sea-sand, drops
Below the edge of trees,
And morning skies rise endless blue,
While gull-cries whet the breeze.

Emily Gingrich is a Canadian teacher who is realizing she has too many dreams for one lifetime.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy

One thought on “Emily Gingrich: Bayside”

  1. “While gull-cries whet the breeze.” A perfect ending. This poem demonstrates what T.S. Eliot said: “In my end is my beginning.” Haunting, melancholy, stirring.

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