A Gibbous Moon at Sunrise
- Christa Percival
- Mar 20
- 2 min read
Thursday 20th March, 2025
This morning, I rose to a sky of pale aquamarine, illuminated by a gibbous moon. I gathered my things and set out toward Devil's point, where the swimmers brave the ocean year round. Seagulls perched high up on the chimny pots facing the sunrise. I could see glowing pink shavings of cloud barely visible above the rooftops. I wondered, "Do birds admire the sky? The fresh morning air was a cool breath on my cheek. As my destination unfolded itself to me, I could see the pink light filling the eastern horizon. In the west, cooler hues of blue and purple dominated the sky. Tomorrow would be last quarter, and the Spring Exuinox. The boundary of light and dark faces us in the gibbous and quarter phases. Our edge must, in its turn, be facing the moon, the two transitional edges kissing from a distance, like socialites.
When I arrived at the top of the stone steps leading down to the water I looked for clues - is the tide rising or falling? I couldn't tell. It looked right at the top, perhaps turning. There was a tempting ledge just blow the seawall, with plenty of room for my materials. I was going to have to scramble to get up there. My clogs were loose, and not great for climbing. I got to work.
By the time I had finished my sky study, the sun was just sending its first arrows of light through the low clouds on the horizon. The moon was growing pale as the sky filled with sunlight. It would set soon, but for now I could see them both facing off over the edge of the day.
Descending the rocks was tricky. I finally had to remove shoes and socks and feel my way down the rocks, their counrous had been smoothed by generations of adventurous hands and feet, and millenia of stormy seas. Barefoot, I walked the final steps to the sea, letting the icy waves lap at my feet. In the distance, as I made my way home, I could hear the laughter and shrieks of the swimmers, as they made their way in to the water.
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