The following poem was written on the airplane from London to Boston last night. As you will notice from above I spelled Gibbous incorrectly, so it is corrected in type below. The out of focus section on the bottom of the page gives the date 2/26/2010 and says "On a plane "home" from Wales. Remembering a [gibeous] moon low in the sky in the early morning about a month before."
The Waning Gibbous Moon
by Phil Wyman
The waning gibbous moon slung low upon the sky
Winks, and bids the dawning day goodbye
It mocks me with its eloquence
It portends darker nights
And with the waning gibbous moon I sigh
The waning gibbous moon slides down to meet the line
Stops, where earth meets sky and dark meets light
Inerrant gibbous moon I sense
Prognosticates my life
and with the waning gibbous moon I cry
The waning gibbous moon slinks out beneath the sky
Flees, to squeeze the night time and the tide
O, soothe me omen gibbous moon
Reveal where I might fly
and with the waning gibbous moon I'll hide
Still in need of work, but basically there. This is the continued efforts of seeing if sleeping on Cadair Idris made a poet or a madman out of me.
