Who would think it could get any hotter here. There are no windows yet the room seems to trap heat. As nice as it is to escape from one of the harshest winters ever experienced here in the hills, the summers just bring more problems. Disease and exhaustion, all conjured by the heat. At the change of solstice everyone loses someone special to them, the conditions are just too overwhelming for anyone to survive. I hung my head out of the window; these thoughts always arise at this time of the morning. Sounds of birds grabbed my attention, pulling my head from its slump. These birds are somewhat rare in our village despite the fact that they are native. Their songs remind me of how my village use to be, a cold reminder of our future. I whispered into the window sill, “and my past...” My eyes started watering, tears brought about by the thought. Why did she have to go that day, why couldn’t she stay just one more week, one more month, who cares how long, time with her made time seem to stop existing. She’s gone now; she left me with the sadness I was trapped under before I met her. All I have now is the birds to remind me. Under my eyes pooled a concoction of tears and sweat, I wiped it with the torn sleeves of my silk gown. My eyes were suddenly drawn to the imminence of an approaching storm. The thought of cool rain evaporating on my burning skin gave me a sense of relief, excitement took over my sadness; only rain could make me happy in times like these. I raced downstairs, the distant thunder clapping in time with my footsteps. I jumped into my sandals and took of outside, letting the door swing behind me. My family had created a system to redirect the village river in case of storms like these. It was in the best interests of t... ... middle of paper ... ...ast; if I leave here, I leave my past. “This is the place where I grew up. This is the place where my life started...” The rain started to fall heavily. The voices of the villagers disappeared, only the birds could be heard. She replied, “This is also the place where you are slowly dying, under the burden of the people you lead.” It hit me. I fell to my knees, my tears started to flow with the rain. “Please, take me away from here... please Elise; you’re the only one who makes me happy” Never had I been so sad under rain. “This village has taken me away from you and it has trapped me.” The rain went from stone to silk pounding my back. “Thank you Liam” she kissed me on the forehead “your village people will have to know that the last of the chief family can’t lead them anymore.” That was it; a lingering past was destroyed by the main concept inspiring it. Elise.
Halfway up it was beginning to look doubtful, the wind was picking up and everyone was getting out rain gear to prepare for the storm. I voiced my doubts to Phil and he said we might as well keep going until the lighting got too close. So we did. The thunder grew in volume and the echoes magnified the noise to a dull roar sometimes. Then suddenly it began to ebb. The wind died down and lightening came less frequently. I exchanged relieved looks with Phil after a bit, but kept the pace up--I didn’t want to take chances. Eventually it hit us, but by then it was nothing more then a heavy rain. We kept moving, if slower, and made it over the ridge with no other problems. That night I enjoyed the meal a little more and slept a little deeper realizing how much is important that easily goes unnoticed until something threatens to take it away.
In the trees the birds stopped singing, and gradually quietened down until silence had completely fallen over the hills. They sat in their nests, motionless, like small figures, lifeless. All could be heard was the wind, and the occasional tumble of leaves onto the rocky surface beneath.
Her bedroom was closed but with an “open window” (463), with a roomy armchair she sank into. As she is looking out the window she sees “the tops of trees,” “new spring life,” “breath of rain was in the air,” and she could hear a peddler below in the street, calling to customers, and “patches of blue sky showing” (463). The author depicts in the previous sentence that when she uses “breath of rain was in the air,” rain is more like a cleansing so she could be feeling a sign of relief but can’t recognize it. She sat with her head on the cushion “quite motionless,” except when a sob came in her throat and “shook her,” like a child “continuously sobbing” (463) in its dreams. The author uses imagery in the previous
In his poem “The Great Scarf of Birds”, John Updike uses a flock of birds to show that man can be uplifted by observing nature. Updike’s conclusion is lead up to with the beauty of autumn and what a binding spell it has on the two men playing golf. In Updike’s conclusion and throughout the poem, he uses metaphors, similes, and diction to show how nature mesmerizes humans.
“I love you, I’m going to stay with your father and Nia, she can’t survive out there,” she sadly said.
Tranquility fills the dull atmosphere. Not knowing how much water the clouds contain before the downpour starts, we innocently set ourselves up for an endless journey; a journey to find the purpose in life. A droplet of rain trickles down onto the top of your head, following a shower of many more droplets. Lightning flashes and booms of thunder take over the sky. Many are hesitant of whether to continue their journey or hide from this storm; an umbrella can only give so much protection against the rapid winds and stinging raindrops. Many describe thunderstorms in a frightening way, but the strong willed individuals who embrace the storm think with positivity - rain is changing the environment and bringing life to the world. Once the rain subsides, the atmosphere, exhausted and worn out, settles down back into the calm tranquil environment that it once was. The sky, once filled with dark and murky clouds, is filled with blue. One may either face the challenge they have been approached with to move on, or decline and stay caught in a storm. An individual’s view of the world has immense power of whether one’s obstacles will result in failure or achievement. It is the mentality that we approach life’s challenges that determine the positive or negative outcomes in our lives.
As the sun began to hide behind the clouds and began to rain, Margot felt the rain to drip down her face. As she stood in the rain, her classmates then came to give her the flowers that they had got for them.
I peered around through the rain, desperately searching for some shelter, I was drowning out here. The trouble was, I wasn’t in the best part of town, and in fact it was more than a little dodgy. I know this is my home turf but even I had to be careful. At least I seemed to be the only one out here on such an awful night. The rain was so powerfully loud I couldn’t hear should anyone try and creep up on me. I also couldn’t see very far with the rain so heavy and of course there were no street lights, they’d been broken long ago. The one place I knew I could safely enter was the church, so I dashed.
As the first rays of the sun peak over the horizon, penetrating the dark, soft light illuminates the mist rising up from the ground, forming an eerie, almost surreal landscape. The ground sparkles, wet with dew, and while walking from the truck to the barn, my riding boots soak it in. The crickets still chirp, only slower now. They know that daytime fast approaches. Sounds, the soft rustling of hooves, a snort, and from far down the aisle a sharp whinny that begs for breakfast, inform me that the crickets are not the only ones preparing for the day.
A loud boom echoed all around me, almost giving me a heart attack. A swift glimpse at the sky was enough to tell me rain was in my immediate future. "Dammit, and I'm not even halfway back yet."
When one fells lost, every drops of the rain fall to the ground like the sound of a sigh. In fact, those idle thoughts are not unwarranted, all those boundless assumptions which look like mental patients’ action are not insane； they’re caused by unheard and lonely. Because of lonely, it dresses the rain a cloth of cold and
Suddenly, I snapped awake. It really was the day of my party, and it really was pouring down rain outside. I trudged out of my room and had breakfast, all the while staring gloomily at the storm raging outside.
What do you feel when you see a sunset? Warm, happy, amazed, awe-inspired? The sun rose yesterday, and will again tomorrow, and will again the day after that, it’s not as if the sunrise is a miraculous event, yet the emotions are visceral. It’s beautiful, and this strikes a deep, primal chord inside. John Berger attempts to unravel this mysterious attraction to beauty in his essay, “The White Bird”. The white bird in question is a small, wooden carving of a white bird, hung in the kitchens of certain cultures that experience long winters, such as the Haute Savoie region in France. According to Berger, the birds are an attempt to hold onto the fleeting beauty of nature, and a reminder of the spring to come. “Nature is energy and struggle. It
“A Bird came down the Walk,” was written in c. 1862 by Emily Dickinson, who was born in 1830 and died in 1886. This easy to understand and timeless poem provides readers with an understanding of the author’s appreciation for nature. Although the poem continues to be read over one hundred years after it was written, there is little sense of the time period within which it was composed. The title and first line, “A Bird came down the Walk,” describes a common familiar observation, but even more so, it demonstrates how its author’s creative ability and artistic use of words are able to transform this everyday event into a picture that results in an awareness of how the beauty in nature can be found in simple observations. In a step like narrative, the poet illustrates the direct relationship between nature and humans. The verse consists of five stanzas that can be broken up into two sections. In the first section, the bird is eating a worm, takes notice of a human in close proximity and essentially becomes frightened. These three stanzas can easily be swapped around because they, for all intents and purposes, describe three events that are able to occur in any order. Dickinson uses these first three stanzas to establish the tone; the tone is established from the poet’s literal description and her interpretive expression of the bird’s actions. The second section describes the narrator feeding the bird some crumbs, the bird’s response and its departure, which Dickinson uses to elaborately illustrate the bird’s immediate escape. The last two stanzas demonstrate the effect of human interaction on nature and more specifically, this little bird, so these stanzas must remain in the specific order they are presented. Whereas most ...