A Penguin's Garden
Recently, the 2/3 class in Room 1 went out to the garden. Students were asked to use their senses to make observations about their environment. They were asked to write descriptions in poetic language, so that their readers would be able to easily make mind pictures. These descriptions were based on what they saw, heard, smelled, and felt. Each student contributed at least one line to the poem.
A Penguin's Garden
I see leaves, plants, and mushrooms.
There are thousands of different colored mushrooms;
There are different shades of brown.
Brown and white mushrooms blend in with the fresh smelling pine needles
that fell from the trees above.
I see spots where clovers have leaped out of the ground.
I see an octopus tree although it has less than 8 legs.
Grass and dry leaves scattered in every direction,
Fresh green growth covers the landscape;
I see blue flowers that make a mixture of colors.
I can see my breath; it looks like steam,
Beautiful blue sky almost shining.
Mostly I hear peaceful silence.
Birds are chirping; it is so nice.
I hear birds tweeting loudly in the trees above me;
I hear them chirping behind me.
I hear cars and trucks flying by from the freeway,
driving to San Francisco and Oakland;
From here they look as little as ladybugs.
I hear the wild wind blowing through my hair.
As I breathe in, I smell the fresh pine and rosemary growing nearby.
The mushrooms smell fresh and raw,
The nice, sweet smell of air is here.
I feel the damp earth beneath me;
I feel the cool earth beneath my hand;
My hand brushes shrubs.
I feel soft smooth bushes,
The prickles on the leaves make my hands feel like they are not there.
The wind is blowing in my hair, which makes it go haywire;
The wind blows bitterly on my legs and cheeks...
By The Poetic Penguins, Room 1