Gibbous Moon

There’s the very slightest sliver of a gibbous moon

Over the western hills.

Never have I seen anything quite so fragile

with the roundness of the moon shadow 

Suggesting the fullness of womb.

Light reflected with such delicacy

From the power of the sun’s great light

that star around which we all turn

hidden now in night

on the other side of this  green globe

we call our earthly home.

 

Hiding from us here

making  dark and mysterious night

when we are to enter 

with inner sight

all other worlds 

 and travel unfettered

Wherever we say

Becoming even the fusion of matter

In the midst of that great golden globe

That, when it returns

to this side of our sphere,

will give us the world

we call day.