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.

Venus, Through The Trees

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The brilliant display catches my eye
as I sit and wait.
The cold air of the damp night seeps into my bones
as I sit and wait.

Through the trees, without a sound
Venus sails across the sky.

The formless void pierced by her brilliant light
traces nothing of her orbit; but,
through leaves she peeks
and behind the branches she abides, hides, 
bride of the sky.

Pageantry of night, stellar delight
as I sit and wait.
The cold air of the damp night seeps into my bones
as I sit and wait.

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