Below the Waxing Gibbous Moon

 

At twilight I was watching the waxing

gibbous moon when a plane appeared to fly

high above that bulging disk. It happened quickly,

and it left no contrails, so I missed the plane

when I clicked the shutter to capture the scene.

 

I don’t know where that plane came from or where

it was going; perhaps on a great circle to Europe.

Nor do I know if anyone on board looked out

their windows and noticed our tiny Cape Ann

nearly six miles below and if anyone wondered

 

if there were people down there looking up at them,

or, if they did, could they imagine who we are

and could they see our backshore, our beaches,

our city with its shops, piers, boats and fishermen

our granite bed, our salt marshes,

 

our grand tidal river and our artists and performers,

our craftspeople and caregivers and youngsters

who breathe nearly four hundred years of Gloucester

history. Could they imagine the surf’s sound

at night, the feel of a cool sea breeze during the

 

dog days of August and the magic of Autumn’s

golden light and spring’s seductive and subtle color?

I wish them safe travels and a hardy adventure and

I hope they remember passing over tiny Cape Ann,

and all that we are, far below the waxing gibbous moon.

 

© Marty Luster 2012

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