 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
||||||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||
 |
||||||||||||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
Transitions of the Night Written by: Karissa (March 1997) The setting sun's radiant colors fill the once immensely blue sky. A warm breeze blows over the vast snow-sheltered mountain peaks, carrying with it the light of the sun. Shadows form eerie images all around me as I search the small clearing for firewood and twigs. Mosquitoes hum their hunting song while dancing through the air, dodging my hands as I swat them away. Slowly, I make my way to the mountain lake. Kneeling beside this big, natural, beautiful mirror, I break through the glassy surface to retrieve water for the next day. Fish jump, breaking the reflection as they feed on conceited flies. The sun now hides itself behind the enormous mountain and I shiver as the air begins to cool. I walk back to my encampment. A woodchuck scurries past me on his way home and sounds of crickets and tree frogs fill the air. I sit on the stool-like rock next to a fire pit and light a match, sparking a new life, the small flame dancing before my eyes. I help the flame grow; this is my creation. The flames multiply with every twig, every branch, breathing the air, the colors competing with those in the darkening sky and celebrating its victory when all is black. The insects rejoice at the reign of the fire, calling out loudly and continuously. Eventually, even they will become still, for with every new star, one more insect quiets down. Tilting my head up, I see millions of stars, shining like fireflies, some brighter than others. To the right, the Big Dipper hangs like a picture on a wall. Stars seem to pour from it like soup from a ladle. The stars are still. One or two comets decide to attempt the dangerous journey through the earth's atmosphere, burning before they come close to their destination. A coyote cries far in the east, an owl hoots in the trees above, and the fire crackles its warning. They all create a natural harmony; their song continues for what seems like hours. Yet, even the sounds of the coyote and owl, like the fire, will die and soon all will be quiet. The blackness swallows me whole. The only remaining light is from the stars; the only remaining sound is the wind. Grass and leaves dance with it as it continues its never-ending journey. Whispering my goodnight to the mountains, I crawl into my tent. Closing my eyes, I am engulfed in the darkness. Morning comes and I step out of my tent. The rising sun's radiant colors fill the once darkened sky. A cool morning breeze awakens the birds, insects, and the friendly woodchuck. Trees, rocks, and the snow-sheltered mountain peaks magically appear as the sun travels its westward journey once again. It is a start of a new day...a new beginning. If you'd like to see pictures of the beautiful mountains, please visit my Montana Trip page! |
|
This is Essay Page 1 |
|
[ Back Home ]
[ About Me ]
[ My Family ]
[ My Friends ]
View/Sign My Guestbook: Click here or on the image below to vote for my website!
This page was last updated on August 9, 2002 |
