We continued to collect words for poems by sifting through the rain and moss tree limbs to match paint chips with names like ‘Dark Galaxy’ and ‘Ivory Palace’ to tree bark and lichen. Students let their discoveries guide some thoughtful prose; their words mirror the amazing diversity of patterns, textures, colours and sounds that emerge from the forest. Pay close attention to what the grade 5 and 6 students found, can you guess what they are describing? Let their words soak in like the rain.

A dirt and rock slushie that curves into green and grown beauty.
A shaking coat making the rustling of a car.
A damp sculpture made for any type of shelter.
~ Chris

It looks like ancient engravings on an Egyptian tomb.
The maze of dead ends and meaningless symbols.
A blanket of root tendrils stretching out into the forest.

It’s a shining and spiralling turret that’s reaching to the sky.
When my run my fingers over it, it feels like a river of silk and a string of life.
It’s like an ivy green salad for a little worm.
Spicy, sweet, peaceful and fresh.

Fresh, evergreen, peppermint, crisp and damp.
A swampy monster of adventure watching me from behind.
A soft, sleek resting place for expectant wanderers.

A scaly dragon’s tail coming out of a dark secret.
It holds the ground beneath me.
It shows the earthworms the route to night life.

Soft shards of fiery wood.
It smells musty as an old, underground temple.
A nice chamber for an insect to dine.

Crisp, the colour of the sky on the darkest night of the year.
As my fingers dragged along it, the hard surface sounded like the crackling of fire under moonlight.
It is a damp, cool, dark well made house that little wood bugs can wither about within.

Creatures live in the dry, balcony listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain falling off the new buds.
My hand feels the soft tickling of the moisted sandpaper with cracks from old age as I walk around the huge trunk.
The new buds filled with gathered rain water relieves the thirst of the many creatures that hide from the rain.
~Cameron C.

Gray turtle made of wet tree bark.
I run my hand over its coarse shell.
A handy seat for tired creatures.

Check out these beautiful poems and images from Ms. Young’s class: