Bad Cold by Shel Silverstein

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  This cold is too much for my shortsleeve. Go get me a Kleenex--and fast. I sniffle and wheeze And I'm ready to sneeze And I don't know how long I can last.... Atchoo--it's to wet for a kleenex, So bring me handkerchief, quick. It's--atchoo--no joke, Now the handkerchief's soaked. Hey, a dish towel just might do the trick. Atchoo--it's too much for bath towel. There never has been such a cold. I'll be better off With that big tablecloth, No--bring me the flag off the pole. Atchoo--bring the clothes from the closet, Atchaa--get the sheets from the bed, The drapes off the window, The rugs off the floor To soak up this cold in my head. Atchoo-- hurry down to the circus And ask if they'll lend you the tent. You say they said yes? Here it comes--Lord be blessed-- Here it is--Ah-kachoooo--there it went.

Up there

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A while back I was walking through the park, along the black metal fence that surrounds the lake. As I made the gradual curve, taking me back toward the cascades, I could not help but notice the string tied to the top of the handrail. The string went up, up, up into the sky. I followed the string with my eye to see the kite was on the other end.

Up, up, up, went the string, until it disappeared into the blue sky. I saw no kite.

It was almost as if someone tethered the sky to the handrail.

A cloud floated by. I stared into the sky.

I felt the string. Yup, definitely something there alright, I could feel the tug.

What do you think was up there?

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