Descriptive Essay;The Moment in the Quiet Little Park

Mr. Emerson Outdoor Descriptive Essay The moment in the quiet little park As I placed my heavy backpack on the old bench, I feel tiredness coming up to me, as well as the sadness, because I have to spend in the park for an hour just to write some descriptive essay. So I grabbed my pencil and notebook and started to look around, the park was lonely. The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. he yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. There was me, sitting on the bench, writing this essay. It was a quiet Tuesday late afternoon and not many people appears, I sat there alone on the ancient bench, the cold wind blew at me, and down to my spine. As I looked up In the sky, it is transformed into a colorful horizon; filled with endless streams of orange and red.

The tree by my side soon gathered my interest, on the edge of the bench where I was sitting, the ancient tree sat hunched over, the gnarled, old king of a once vast domain that had long ago been turned to pasture. The great, gray knees gripped the hard Earth with a solidity of purpose that made it difficult to determine just where the tree began and the soil ended, so strong was the union of the ancient bark and grainy sustenance. Besides the ancient tree, there was an enormous baseball park; the grass is green as a precious jade.

People with their pets’ plays joyfully on the grass, the enjoyment on their face are precious and reminds me the fairy tale books I use to read back in my childhood age, the quote “ happily ever after “truly exist. Even I barely remember my childhood life, but after looking at toddlers walking around looking confused, that innocent little face has truly touched me. ‘Are we all like this back in our childhood’? The mysterious question suddenly appears in my head.

As the sun has set and the sky has darkened like an evil spirit forcing spells to it, I stood up and walked into the sandpit that’s next to me, I can feel the soft smooth sand beneath my feet, and soon I’m taken in by the soothing atmosphere that encircles me. I close my eyes, letting myself absorb in the cool breeze on an up-coming autumn day. I am comforted by the sounds of the night wind; the rhythmic pounding of the blowing represses all of my worries. I look into the cloudless cerulean black sky and see the perfection of life. I often want to be like a bird, seemingly drifting endlessly in the wind without a care in the world.

As I walked and sat on the playground swing, and now that I am relaxed, allowing myself to close my eyes and drift off for a peaceful swing, that moment was joyful. But however, that moment didn’t last long. I am soon awoken but the sounds of an owl; its big yellow eyes intimidate me, it looks like a furious predator, searching aggressively for its prey. I looked up to the sky again, searching for the wonders. I was surprised by the setting bright circular moon hangs in the sky, like a yellow balloon off in the distance, it was beautiful. The cold wind once again startled me, forcing me to leave.

It was freezing as I reached into my pocket and checked my phone, the one and half has gone. So I reached my backup, plugged into my headphones, and ready to leave. I walked to the top of the front gate of the park. I was shocked by the view, the park seems to look ancient, but from the front gate view, it is beautiful. The light brightly shines on to the grass, and with the gently wind blow effect. The grass seems to be lively alive, and since I have a gentle music playing on my iPod, that moment was fantastic. It’s not only words that can describe this moment, because the scene I was looking has become way beyond its meaning. ss