The one moment while

the light was still young

and the morning unmarred . . .

We set sail toward the sun,

our white clothes silvered,

shimmering with newborn love

and oranges rolled in the galley.

The mast was a tower of knightly virtue

and the seasons loved winter for

its snowy bounty,

our hair, blowing in the sea.

Emily Isaacson

The waves of salt

are in keeping with our gold medallion,

the rim of the world,

a far-away ideal

and casted tide driving the shore.

Purple tempests and green orchards,

sun-swept valleys and porcelain dogwood. 

Emily Isaacson

Sweet soul, in remembrance

for in worship, the light grows brighter,

noon prevails, and an isle appears.

Over indifference, we hear your salt waves

and with the train of foam,

we are brought near.

When we shall, married, fast; 

we shall, in hunger, kiss.

Emily Isaacson