Poetry

May 11, 2012

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

                   ---  Emily Dickinson

The robins' brown feathers are so much more visible today and their eyes are wide open! We could also see clearly that there are three instead of four baby birds in the nest. 

Here are a couple poems the Kindergarten Brimmer students wrote as a group about the robin. The first was an adjective poem: 

Robins

Black, has wings

Orange belly, round head,

Tweet tweet,

Has blue eggs

The second poem is an acrostic:

Robins fly
Over our playgrounds
Bringing food back
Into their 
Nest