Monday, March 5, 2007

Paragraph Without Adj.

My Kitchen Window

Outside my kitchen window hides a farm. You can listen to the crowing of a rooster or the quack of a duck. I watch my uncle whistle and tend to the weeds. Although he may be 83, Uncle Shigeto is still a mother to the greenery. I hear the buzzing of bees as they pollinate the avocado tree buds. I smell the last of the pukenikeni flowers. I stare at the vee tree. It reminds me of the man who tried to steal the vee from the tree, only to be caught by policemen. Tangled behind the brush I also see the tangerine tree. That makes me reminisce about picking the tangerines while letting my dogs wander back there. I can’t believe that a fence divides a forest farm from my house.

3/5/07

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