Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #6                         Page 24
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Sometimes it’s impossible to find a silver lining.
Everything’s a disaster and the moon hangs
in the sky like the shell of a giant old tortoise.
We try to lift a boulder against this tide but
we’re liable only to land in trouble. That’s the
way I’ve felt about things since Mabel died
and the kids moved to West Virginia. Most
of the sense I make nowadays has to do with
the proper measure that it takes to get through
another week without too much dirt getting
under my fingernails. When I was a kid I’d
swing on the branches with such gusto you’d
think I was indestructible. And the moon would
be so big in the sky like a giant ice cream cone
on the hottest day of summer. We’d go for
hayrides down by Honeywell Circle. And there
would be a scent in the air like lilies on Easter
Sunday that would fill our imaginations with
romance. Those memories creek through the
synapses of my brain like rusty hinges. Counting
up the weight of regrets like a geiger counter
striking uranium. But I aint going nowhere. I’m
sticking around in hopes of getting a better view.
And when that day comes I’m gonna scream
hallelujah and welcome every silver lining into
my life like Christmas.

  Bruce Weber