Ysgol Stanwell School

Archer Road, Penarth, Vale of Glamorgan, CF64 2XL

Superb piece of writing by Robert

Stanwell School

Posted on: Thursday 18th November 2021

A superb piece of writing by Robert who completed this in class under timed conditions with nothing more than an image of an autumnal scene for inspiration. 🍁🍂✍️ Da iawn ti

A gliding, shimmering, drifting leaf danced a graceful ballet to the rustling of the surrounding world. Down, down, down… It sank, looking almost relieved, onto the delicate membrane of a pond. Emanating ripples swirled out towards the gently sloping bank. Clouds of slight, darting fish, silver as the moon, whirled in a great, inaudible harmony. One of these glistening individuals peeled away; in a lightning fast flick of its tail, it powered towards the surface – a poised, unstoppable arrow. Sensing this shape, hurtling through murky depths of the darkest green, the purest sky blue, an electric blue dragonfly whizzed upwards and away. Honeycomb eyes, iridescent in the awe-inspiring spectrum of the light of sunrise, took in the whole melody of this pond, this park, this world.

On the opposite side of the pearly, mirror-like expanse of water, a duck clumsily waddled up onto the bank. Dirty orange feet, webbed with strong membrane, elicited small sucking, slurping noises from the fresh mud that ringed its home. It continued its placid way along the slight slope until it reached a thickly woven tangle of stout, strong bushes. Amongst the edges of this wild thicket stood a wiry sapling. Tall, proud and defiant. Rough peels of cracking bark encircled its trunk in a beautiful hazel-auburn. Admiringly and respectfully, it gazed up towards its neighbour. This was a magnificent cherry blossom, sprinkling a confetti rain of delicate pink petals onto the dancing wind which, in turn, swept them up and away.

A faint succession of dim, timid crunches punctuated the calm, tranquil silence of dawn. Tough, weathered, sturdy boots crushed down mercilessly on the ocean of curling bronze leaves that littered the smooth paved paths. The footsteps slowed, and a gentle hand reached out to caress the seat of a solid, ornate bench. Gothic swirls, sculpted like an organic tangle of ivy, brushed beneath the fingertips as they ran by. And they were off; they continued into the park, under the cosy glow of the street lamps, alighted on their dark, strong poles.

A tiny robin fluttered above their head, and they gazed transfixed at the curious bird, with its proud crimson chest and small wings flapping wildly beneath a scattering of wispy, candy floss clouds. A branch swayed as it landed on one of the out stretched arms of an unaccountably ancient gnarled oak, a hunched, twisted figure on a soft bed of spring green meadow. At this, a majestic leaf twirled from its home, landing with a ripple on the pond…

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