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
Good Morning Gloucester 