Nothing could possibly stop the darkness that encroached on me. Although a lack of light in this far off place made it look inhospitable, I knew better. I knew exactly what I was looking for, and the stars shimmering in the distance did not improve or inhibit my ability to do so.
As I often did while walking alone at night, I got sucked into some sort of reverie, losing myself in the balmy summer air that had chilled considerably after the sun went down. I had lost myself, as many have lost so many things in the twilight hours, but being found again was the last thing I wanted. An escape is what I so desperately longed for and looked for that night, and I think I found it.
Buzzing insects and a slight breeze rustling the leaves of an ancient tree only added to the lonesome melody the earth played for me. A large scar where lightening had struck the tree had left part of the trunk burnt to a crisp black, and yet it showed no signs of dying anytime soon. But all too soon I was yanked out of my daydreams, by the illuminated window, casting its mechanical glow on the pavement near the ...
The cold chill was blazing on me and my shoe gently began to pull out a tear. I thought about Candy and the other guys. Hopefully, I made the right choice. The sun came down and I ended up in a deserted river. Slowly, I began to regain where I was, and I opened my eyes in disbelief.
The speaker in “Five A.M.” looks to nature as a source of beauty during his early morning walk, and after clearing his mind and processing his thoughts along the journey, he begins his return home feeling as though he is ready to begin the “uphill curve” (ln. 14) in order to process his daily struggles. However, while the speaker in “Five Flights Up,” shares the same struggles as her fellow speaker, she does little to involve herself in nature other than to observe it from the safety of her place of residence. Although suffering as a result of her struggles, the speaker does little to want to help herself out of her situation, instead choosing to believe that she cannot hardly bare recovery or to lift the shroud of night that has fallen over her. Both speakers face a journey ahead of them whether it be “the uphill curve where a thicket spills with birds every spring” (ln. 14-15) or the five flights of stares ahead of them, yet it is in their attitude where these two individuals differ. Through the appreciation of his early morning surroundings, the speaker in “Five A.M.” finds solitude and self-fulfillment, whereas the speaker in “Five Flights Up” has still failed to realize her own role in that of her recovery from this dark time in her life and how nature can serve a beneficial role in relieving her of her
“ I myself fell prey to wanderlust some years ago, desiring nothing better than to be a vagrant cloud scudding before the wind... But the year ended before I knew it... Bewitched by the god of restlessness, I lost my peace of mind; summoned by the spirits of the road, I felt unable to settle down to anything.”
“The wind had blown off, leaving a loud bright night with wings beating in he trees and a
While studying the solar system in our eighth grade science class, we were each assigned a constellation to research. The constellation that was assigned to me was Cepheus. In this paper my goal is to explain the myth behind this constellation and describe its features.
I had gone. . . to the smoke of cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring (13).
His own loneliness, magnified so many million times, made the night air colder. He remembered to what excess, into what traps and nightmares, his loneliness had driven him; and he wondered where such a violent emptiness might drive an entire city. (60)
Certain nights you’d feel a certain surrender, maybe if you’d had wine. The surrender would be forgetting yourself and you'd put your nose to his neck and feel like a squirrel, safe, at rest, in a restful dream. But then you'd make out the dim shape of the windows and feel yourself become a cave. Filled absolutely with air, or with a sadness that wouldn't stop. (Minot, 220)
Have you ever experienced a moment where no one is around and you could easily turn your back and walk away if you wanted to? “Traveling through the Dark” written by American writer, William E. Stafford, brings that experience to life. Stafford was known as a rebel because he did not always follow the social and literary expectations. Stafford’s poetry often entails “plain talking,” but his messages are very powerful in their meaning. The poem is a four-line stanza, which represents iambic pentameter.
Earth’s galaxy, the Milky Way consists of more than 100 billion stars, many of which can be interpreted by human visual perception, while other can only be observed with the aid of a magnifying or light-collecting optical device such as a telescope. The stars are organized into various groupings according to their visible arrangement as observed in earth’s atmosphere. Human beings from cultures of eras bygone such as the Greeks, Romans, and Babylonians, and bestowed most, if not all of the titles upon the constellations as we know them today. Earth’s atmosphere comprises eighty-eight constellations, of which I have chosen the following five to discuss for my laboratory report: Andromeda, Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, Cepheus, and Draco
It was a crisp night in mid autumn. Outside of the unlit houses wind tore through the city, rattling the windows & doors of creaky houses, and waking many who were peacefully sleeping just moments before. The few attentive enough to take notice of it were still blissfully unaware of what had just occurred.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
SparkNotes Editors. “SparkNote on Long Day's Journey into Night.” SparkNotes.com. SparkNotes LLC. n.d.. Web. 6 Jan. 2014. .
The tree is very much like a queen, wearing its dress of leaves. I would not reach out and touch it—because it would be rude. At the shoulders of the tree—the branches fork off into three directions. The thick branches hold up more green leaves—the delicate kind—shaping the head of the tree like a mushroom. The tree resembles a green Queen Amadalia—young and bright. When I looked up at her, you see the sunlight reflect off her hair—the leaves—creating a peaceful glow. It blurs everything, however, and I had to stop looking. The wind does blow the leaves, but it is so lightly that you can barely tell. The fountain near by spurts out water in this direction.
...e roots of the old tree, the star’s light was intercepted by green shoots and small, crinkled leaves— last season’s seeds. Tiny children of the mother tree, they were doomed to live out their lives under her suffocating blanket of branches. Now as they gazed upward, innumerable points of light gazed back. A light wind rustled the miniature stalks of the saplings, blowing the new debris around in short-lived eddies that danced softly through the night.