Dusk

It is dusk. My favorite part of the day. The sun is slowly setting over the horizon. That blazing ball of fire. Soon it will be dark. My friends have flown to all sorts of exotic places and brought back news about how beautiful it was where they went. They were so wrapped up in the beauty of other lands that they forget the beauty that surrounds us.
I sit on a hill next to my house and I can see the Bay of Fundy. Beside me is a tree. A leaf lets go of the branch that supports it and slowly falls to the ground. I pick it up and press it in my book.
The trees are all sorts of reds, oranges, browns and yellows, put together to make a beautiful collage. Leaves are everywhere, on the ground mostly, but a few are in the trees.
The great tree beside me must be a couple of hundred years old. Standing there, strong, tall and brave. I wonder what this tree has seen and heard?
A crow caws, a pesky animal, but its feathers are sleek and black and beautiful.
I look around me: everything so natural, so free.
This is my home.

By Jennifer MacDonald
Age:12