Wellington - Our windy little city by Mya Simpson

Wellington - Our windy little city 

by Mya Simpson

What a pity our little city is so windy. 

What a pity our city is so windy on a wet Wellington day.

The waves crash against the rocks. 

The waves crash against the rocks on a wet Wellington day.

The skirts fly. The skirts fly into the windy wet Wellington wind.

The hats blow away. The hats blow away into the windy wet Wellington wind.

Oh what a windy little city.

I am a Cicada

I am a Cicada

By Matilda

I am Cicada,

I lay eggs.

I can fly and I drop from my nest immediately.

I have a male friend.

He has a drum on his abdomen; this is how he found me.

My babies are called nymphs.

I live underground for 17 years and I only come out when it’s time to have babies.

We wrote beach poems using our senses. We edited, published and illustrated