Summer Beats Poem Descriptions

“We received no food. We lived in snow; it took the place of bread. The days resembled the nights, and the nights left in our souls the dregs of their darkness. The train rolled slowly, often halted for a few hours, and continued. It never stopped snowing. We remained lying on the floor for days and nights, one on top of the other, never uttering a word. We were nothing but frozen

The boy lay there next to his father keeping each other warm from the chilling atmosphere where they set camp. The air was so moist it turned the dirt into damp mud and the boy could feel his sleeping bag submerge into it. The intimidating glare of an owl examining him sent a tingle up his spine. The sounds of bugs chiming filled the ambience, killing the silence giving him a sense of security. He looked up at the twilight sky illuminated by the blinding shimmer of the full moon gleaming through the forest trees over him. Surrounding it was an array of glimmering stars prompting the sky alive. As his body grew accustomed to the environment, each natural attribute gave him comfort and allowed him to slowly fall into a deep sleep.

Grass tickles my bare feet, and the sultry night air caresses my skin as I stand facing the forest. With the moon full and glistening over the dew covered greenery, I am enraptured. The gentle breeze wraps around me like a lovers embrace and I am lost to my surroundings. The nights are beginning to cool with the new season and are a welcomed relief to the waning summer heat.

“Trees towered upwards with bending boughs holding the weight of the freshly fallen snow. A blanket of snow hid away all traces of animal life although you could hear the krawing of a murder of crows. Their hidden presence was foreboding to all men who passed through the forest. It was a signal of another starved beast returning to the earth. Even the most frivolous found the endless winter to be a burden.

The lake darkens as the ominous clouds race across the sky, as black as the devil’s soul, and swallows the bliss-blue complexion of the sky faster than you can blink. The world has abruptly become cellar-dark and the heavens above look to collapse down upon me. A deafening wind runs over the landscape like a thousand horses, the noise of the raindrops their clattering hoofs. The threatening force of the gales knocks and blows the trees in precarious ways, almost as though, if it had wanted to, the wind could blow them away as if they were but feathers, not heavy pines. Lighting lights up the sky like liquid, golden ore streaks being forged into forks up above. Wriggling and writhing with the pain of their own existence. Flashing once, twice, three times, polished and glossy like the cold prongs of the apocalypse. Shaking myself from my weather-caused trance, I hurry for shelter under a nearby fern tree. Staring deep into the blackness of the storm I wonder whether I will ever see that bliss-blue appearance

January Thaw describes the close of winter through a few signs: the melting of the snow, the wake-up of the hibernating skunk, the grieving of the mouse over his flooded tunnels, bundles of rabbit hair and their newfound “freedom from want and fear”.

In the northern section of the Lower Peninsula, there were leafless trees and snow flurries. I wished I could make my mind a white snow drift stretching between vacant lots. I wanted to lose my thoughts in the white fields. I wanted my memories to become concealed like the oak branches in a

After summer is fall and I got to say that it is so long and cold it’s more miserable than just sitting on the couch being bored. The water park is barren and silent, like a ghost town that has not had any visitors in quite some time. The whispers of the wind fly by and it is the only thing you can hear in the distance. The chilling wind snaps and cracks, ready to hit anybody that is

The two men lay in the snow, listening to the branches creak in the forest. Silence. A crow cawed in the distance, interrupting the calm only for a second. As the two men’s fate approached, they began to perceive things that they had never experienced before. All the crackling, shuffling, and whistling became crystal clear to them, and they wondered how they had never heard these sounds before. Little shimmers and sparkles caught their eyes as if to tell them to enjoy their last moments in this world. Frost glittered in the slivery moonlight, cascading upon them through an opening in the dense canopy

Meanwhile, mid-morning rain brought a unique smell of wetness an earthy odor of damp dirt that no flower has an aroma of. Sounds of guffawing, loquacious, bubbly, effervescent and vivacious folks echo in the park. Another, fantabulous mouthwatering sweet hickory aroma fills the air from neighboring barbecue grills. Consequently, the more you inhaled the pleasant vapor it made your stomach growl of hunger wanting the palatable cuisine. Fresh cut grass and sweet fragrance speak of a day full of possibilities and work that one could do. High and weak is the winter sun, giving mid light and even less warmth. Scent of fresh air, so undefinable, so deliciously crisp, breathes a new breath in the stale air of winter that hangs on, giving it health and a set of wings for new life. Friends gather on the porch for escapades, relaxation and chow time.

When one hears the word “winter”, one might think of a cold, peaceful environment. In the beginning of the novel, the wintery environment present in Starkfield, Massachusetts has an elegant and appealing nature. However, Edith Wharton reveals how this seemingly peaceful environment can twist a whole community and provide an unpropitious future for the residents there. By using the theme of winter, Wharton attempts to create a tranquil setting; however, as the story progresses Starkfield begins to turn into a bleak, ironic setting that buries each characters desires and dreams.

It was a cold day, so cold that your arms start to sting as if a needle is impaling the surface of your skin. The wind applies a force which feels as if your face is oozing with thick crimson red blood. The gray puffy clouds covered the sky and dropped small snowflakes onto the road’s surface. A man stood there, freezing, clearing the coat of thick white snow from the concrete road. His nose runs with a river of snot that floods out when the cold wind strikes. His sense of smell is heavily clogged by the slimy snot, but he can still smell the scent of the steamy hot chocolate which sits on the top of his snow covered car. His feet start to numb because of the cold flood which soaks through his boots to his white, silky socks. His feet feel as if he stepped into the freezing cold ocean. As if he fell through ice and he was stuck standing there. The vast pile of the ice white snow feels almost like a quicksand around his black rubber boot. Foggy figures of people shovel the big piles of snow off the sidewalks. They scrape and pick at the glossy white ice which sticks to the sidewalk like a little boy clinging to his mother's side. His feet still sting as if he was stepping on pins and needles. His hands are damp with sweat from grasping the curved metal shaft attached to a socket which holds the blade. The blade cuts holes into the thick powdered snow which is removed from the endless pile. The jet black shovel is filled with slushy snow and crystal shards of ice. The end of

Imagine, if you will, a brisk night wind coming fast across a lake carrying a pungent smell, something you can’t quite identify, but is nonetheless familiar enough to send a shiver up your spine. As it hits the trees, they creak out a somber call in the still night air. Or was that groan something more…human? You notice, for the first time, the absence of tires humming on pavement and you wonder if it’s that late, or maybe just a slow night. The soft tapping of your shoes on the sidewalk is the only accompaniment your slow breathing has as you move towards the warmth of your home, holding thoughts of a warm bed in the palm of your hand to keep the chill away. You don’t notice at first, perhaps because the reality of what you’re hearing is

It’s as bright as the sun but as cold as the moon. The light is intensified by the snow. The snow is thick. It consumes the trees, the ground, and my eyes. The only thing that sticks out from the snow is the brown bark of the trees, and the shadows of the branches. The grass on the ground looks more like icicles sticking up from the ground. Everything is blanketed by snow. The sky has no emotion, its grey and monotone. It gives a sense of loneliness and silence. There is no life to be found, no green plant life, no people or animals. The absence of life brings about sadness, but it also brings tranquility and peace. There is no conflict in this image, there is nothing in this image except the snow. The image wants to take away my happiness and replace it with a calm, cold, emptiness.