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Postcards from eighth grade
Postcards from eighth grade
Thursday, September 20, 2007

 

From a writing lesson conducted during a beach cleanup on Friday.
 
Water is the underside of a boat.
 
The water is like a blue classroom full of sky.
 
The bay is like a flag blowing in the breeze.
 
The shingles of a house in the blazing sun.
 
It is like flies biting at sunset.
 
It is like dinosaurs reading in the dark.
It's a deep, dark pit.
 
The bay is like a secret shadow behind you.
 
The bay is like a monster eating the earth.
 
The bay is like my sister always calm and relaxed.
 
The water is like a moving van.
 
This water is a home.
 
From fifteen-minutes reflections written at the Farm School today.
 
The trees always seem so still and calm, but when you look closely, you can see each one's individual sway.
 
There are so many small bright orange pumpkins, about 300 I'd say.
 
Pumpkins down below remind me of penguins in snow.
 
The electric fence has yellow and black stripes on it.
 
Birds chirping, bees buzzing and goats talking.
 
Goats, goats everywhere.
 
When you talk with your friends, the crickets are barely there. But when you don't talk at all, they're almost louder than your thoughts.
 
I see wide open space. I feel very relaxed.
 
The smell is so strong it creeps.
 
The smell gets a new smell when you get very close.
 
Just to be on top of the world once without anyone telling you what to do.
 
Dear Mom, tell Dad I milked a cow.
 
I've never seen a bluer sky.

 

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