Post by Absinthe on Apr 27, 2006 15:12:59 GMT -6
This was written for our weekly essay assignment for AP English. The topic was "Describe something beautiful"
Snow melts ever so slowly, seeping into the ground with remorse. Bits of green climb through white as each singular blade of grass awakens from the long slumber of winter. Bare-branched trees shake away the dripping icicles as the sun peeks out from behind its cloudy cover. Small creatures begin to crawl from their holes to raise their little pink noses at the first sign of spring. Everything is covered in a hazy sort of glow, as dew settles and mist floats along. It is rather early, almost too early to be awake and outside. The sun has just risen.
The sky is alive with color. Pinks and reds intermingle with a blue backdrop and streaks of yellow-orange light. The moment looks almost like a painting, far too serene to be real. There are few cars passing on the normally busy road and the houses nearby are quiet, their occupants not yet alive to the world. A drowsy feeling passes in an almost invigorating scent. The sweet, musty smell of rain is pure and innocent. Nothing could disturb the peace of such a morning. It is far too perfect.
It is almost hard to imagine that in an hour’s time, the street will be abuzz with automobiles and the sun will rise fully, bathing the world in a less ethereal glow. Spring mornings hold more beauty than any person could ever possess. It is simply too bad that the serenity of such mornings must be broken at some point by the hustle and bustle of human activity. Even so, nothing could possibly match that beauty.
Snow melts ever so slowly, seeping into the ground with remorse. Bits of green climb through white as each singular blade of grass awakens from the long slumber of winter. Bare-branched trees shake away the dripping icicles as the sun peeks out from behind its cloudy cover. Small creatures begin to crawl from their holes to raise their little pink noses at the first sign of spring. Everything is covered in a hazy sort of glow, as dew settles and mist floats along. It is rather early, almost too early to be awake and outside. The sun has just risen.
The sky is alive with color. Pinks and reds intermingle with a blue backdrop and streaks of yellow-orange light. The moment looks almost like a painting, far too serene to be real. There are few cars passing on the normally busy road and the houses nearby are quiet, their occupants not yet alive to the world. A drowsy feeling passes in an almost invigorating scent. The sweet, musty smell of rain is pure and innocent. Nothing could disturb the peace of such a morning. It is far too perfect.
It is almost hard to imagine that in an hour’s time, the street will be abuzz with automobiles and the sun will rise fully, bathing the world in a less ethereal glow. Spring mornings hold more beauty than any person could ever possess. It is simply too bad that the serenity of such mornings must be broken at some point by the hustle and bustle of human activity. Even so, nothing could possibly match that beauty.
