August in Beads, Flowers, and Verse

Summer

~by John Updike

The sprinkler twirls.
The summer wanes.
The pavement wears
Popsicle stains.

The playground grass
Is worn to dust.
The weary swings
Creak, creak with rust.

The trees are bored
With being green.
Some people leave
The local scene

And go to seaside
Bungalows
And take off nearly
All their clothes.

End of summer for your wrist can be found here.

Slishity-slosh

Rain

by Shel Silverstein

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,





And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,




So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.



Slishity-slosh for your wrist right here... and maybe some slishity-slosh for your ears, too.