stars are too twinkly

I haven't posted Shel Silverstein in years and years (actually, not since the very first year), but he came up in the poetry club discord server recently, and as an absolute classic of children's poetry, he's also one of the first poets I ever encountered. Plus, I am feeling this one today—a lot of things have been great today, actually, including going to Brooklyn for brunch to celebrate a friend's birthday—but I also locked myself out of my apartment doing laundry, and broke my shoe, and spent several hours on subways, and all things considered it hasn't been my best day.

Everything's wrong,
Days are too long,
Sunshine's too hot,
Wind is too strong.
Clouds are too fluffy,
Grass is too green,
Ground is too dusty,
Sheets are too clean.
Stars are too twinkly,
Moon is too high,
Water's too drippy,
Sand is too dry.
Rocks are too heavy,
Feathers too light,
Kids are too noisy,
Shoes are too tight.
Folks are too happy,
Singin' their songs.
Why can't they see it?
Everything's wrong!

—Shel Silverstein (1930-1999), "Mr. Grumpledump's Song," from Where the Sidewalk Ends, which was originally published in 1974, but in this case the poem is from the 2004 30th anniversary edition, by way of poets.org.

seeking the chalk-white arrows

I find that life - even dreary, weepy, angsty, snow-in-April life - is made brighter, lighter, and far more manageable by Shel Silverstein. And since I spent much of the afternoon resisting the dangerous lure of Pablo Neruda, I think this will do nicely. Even without the illustrations.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

~Shel Silverstein, Where The Sidewalk Ends, 1974