Somewhere outside of Philadelphia,
there is a small island in a pond shaped like a boomerang.
When I tilt my chin to the heavens,
I wonder which foolish god
threw it to this barren part of earth?
I sarcastically ask them if they are still
waiting for their toy to return.
In the afternoon I drive home
to the Pennsylvania-Dutch hills.
I raise my sun-bound face
to the sky, and to my surprise,
there in the heavens, I see it:
the yawning crescent moon!
I chuckle, knowing I am foolish
for thinking God ever left us.