like a spring morning and soothing like the sounds of an ocean wave crashing on the rocks. Under the sky’s dark blanket of shadows and it’s vast variety of gems and jewels‚ I dance to the song of the crickets and fireflies. As dawn peeks up over the horizon and shows its alluring colors‚ the dwellers of the world open their eyes to a glorious new day. The grass is gentle‚ the trees are majestic and grand; the flowers are even more beautiful than the very essence of beauty itself. Birds sing their sweet
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eternity but the day had finally given way to night. The departure of the daylight offered my sunbaked skin refuge from the dry heat that constantly pressed down on me. My weary muscles lent me just enough energy to lift my heavy head and scan the horizon to ensure that the Tracker was long gone. Occasionally‚ I glanced up and gazed upon the colorful specks of light that were interspersed within the inky black sky. It was heart-wrenching to know that I was experiencing the same starry sky that my mother
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Planting a Sequoia All afternoon my brothers and I have worked in the orchard‚ Digging this hole‚ laying you into it‚ carefully packing the soil. Rain blackened the horizon‚ but cold winds kept it over the Pacific‚ And the sky above us stayed the dull gray Of an old year coming to an end. In Sicily a father plants a tree to celebrate his first son’s birth– An olive or a fig tree–a sign that the earth has one more life to bear. I would have done the same‚ proudly laying new stock into my father’s
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Cristina Provenzano Professor Polgar February 21‚ 2011 Descriptive Essay The Beach As the sun peeked over the horizon announcing the beginning of another beautiful hot summer day‚ Lisa drove to the beach with a sense of excitement. She packed her bag for a day at the beach and a time when she had a little peace of mind. Enjoying the morning breeze caressing her face‚ Lisa sped down the highway to the voice of Taylor Swift booming throughout her speakers of her cherry red X6 BMW. She
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Destin. Depending on the time of day‚ you’d be able to little dots on the beach that are people milling around on the flour-white sands of the shoreline. Even though I was fourteen stories in the above the ground; there was water disappearing into the horizon line as far as my eye could see. Up here on the balcony‚ you are unable to hear much due to the cawing of seagulls passing by religiously. The stargazing view from this balcony at night is clear and vivid. Depending on what time one woke up the following
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It was early evening‚ maybe about 8 o’clock‚ and the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon. Clouds were beginning to form in the cobalt sky‚ insulating the remaining heat from the stifling day and promising a lusciously warm evening ahead. It had been hot‚ even by the harsh standards of Canarian summers‚ and the scents of prospering wildflowers filled the thick‚ sultry air. It was a still afternoon‚ not a breeze to be had to alleviate the cloying heat‚ and the coming night was loaded with
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synonyms. To be youthful is much more a state of mind than a literal tallying of days‚ weeks‚ months and years. It is an expression of gratitude for the gift of life and health—a vibrant‚ idealistic response to the hope that emerges from beyond the horizon with the rising sun of each new morning. To be young‚ quite simply‚ is to stay in the game. As I’ve been blessed enough to reach the age that my dear father was when he had me‚ more and more I’ve come to understand how precious our days are and how
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round buttons. They do not exude any magnetism; neither do they give off an aura of mystery and melodrama. But‚ they have been the rolls with which I have been able to witness many a beautiful sunset. The sun spreads its mosaic of colour on the horizon‚ amidst wisps of drifting clouds‚ as hues of russet pink and violet glisten across the sapphire sky. Then‚ darkness tears the sky asunder‚ as day slips into night‚ providing a canvas for the vast constellation of stars that sparkle majestically‚ illuminated
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can lead even the most effective governments to head into a plethora of headaches for the future. To constantly keep focusing on where you place your footing will give you no clue as to where you are heading. One can shift attention between the horizon to see where the path is leading and the terrain one is treading to have a robust grip on the road as well. That way we can minimize the potential puddles and potholes that we encounter on the way to our destination‚ instead of just wandering only
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chill mist evaporated off the water” When the boat left another young woman called for the boatman to wait but it was too late as they were already underway. While she cried‚ “Boatman‚ ho boatman! ... curls of smoke fused with the clouds‚ erasing the horizon line.” She was too late to escape Communism and the ideals it brought with it. The Smoke had engulfed the “distant bank” throwing it into
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