Letting Go
by Elaine Gingrich
The sun slides like a soft pink ball
Behind the far edge of the bay.
My granddaughter’s cello draws the last tiny sip
Of sound from the tip of its bow.
A pencil of gold etches a cloud
In a once-in-a-lifetime design,
The last note of a day,
Like the last breath of a life,
My mother’s last lingering smile.
The oboe begins its silver moonlight solo
As the day’s gratitudes and regrets
Fade into silence
Under my pillow.
With Georgian Bay sunsets and the music of waves at her doorstep, and a house full of poetry, music and theology, Elaine Gingrich aspires to create a bit of beauty in response.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy