DESCRIBING A RIVER

LEVEL 1: BASIC SENTENCES

1. I saw a jewel-blue stream in the forest.
2. It was splashing as it moved through the trees.
3. It curved gently through the forest.
4. It hopped over the rocks happily.
5. My friend told me that rivers are the roads of the forest.
6. This one was flickering like glitter on the surface.
7. I could see a family of ducks paddling on the water.
8. I took a drink. It was very refreshing.
9. The aroma of the forest was great.
10. It drew me to a berry bush. I ate one and it tasted rich.

LEVEL 2: A BASIC PARAGRAPH

I spied a gem-blue stream in the forest. It was seeping and dribbling as it swerved through the trees. It jumped for joy over the timeworn rocks. I heard once that rivers are the arteries of the forest. This one was sparkling like tinsel. T

he fluttering butterflies drifted over it lazily. I bent my head down to drink from it. It was very stimulating. The aroma of the forest was very powerful. I plucked a few berries and they were lush and fruity to the tongue.

LEVEL 3: CREATIVE PARAGRAPHS

turquoise-blue stream wound its merry way through the forest. Babbling and burbling, it sprung over the limestone rocks in its way. Pebbles whisked about in the under wash like pieces of glitter. Streams are the liquid soul of the forest, and this one was glowing.   Chords of soft light speared down from above, bathing its surface in gold. It was glinting with little sparkles, like a thousand diamonds blessed with an inner fire. A galaxy of dragonflies fizzed through the beams of light, wings a-glitter in the sun. The hedgerows were pregnant with berries and we tasted some. They energized us with their pleasant waft. The delicious taste stayed with us all the way home.

                                        LEVEL 4: ADVANCED PARAGRAPHS

I was the first to chance upon the brook. It was a fragile, duck-egg blue colour, like the subtle sweep of a painter’s brush. Seeping and snaking smoothly past all obstacles, it managed to hurdle the river’s boulders also. Twigs twirled on its murmuring surface, little messengers from the mountain trees where they had come from. The brook flowed over the pebbled riverbed. It sounded like the airy, velvety whirl of a starling flock.

The mountains stood silently in the background, a brooding presence of sky punching majesty. Brooches of snow covered their lofty peaks, encircling them in wreaths of angel-white. A weeping waterfall poured from a gash in the rock face. It looked like a slide of silk-blue flowing down the mountain. Carrying its load of ice crystals, it appeared hemmed with silver. A distant thrumming sound emanated from it, like the steady rumble of a drum roll. Glinting brightly, it fed the river, the lifeblood of the forest. It was an awe-inspiring sight.

My gaze returned to the swirling brook. I could see now how the water had gained its glassy clarity. The run off from the ice made it appear varnish clear and the surface glinted as if dream dust had been scattered over it. Speckled trout drifted under the shady eaves of the bank, flicking their tails lazily. If a juicy fly happened to pass them, they would explode from the pebbled bed like angels of death. Arcing into the air, their bodies glistening, they hovered briefly, performing the ballet of the river. Then, with a plunking sound, they would dart back to the shadowed depths, their catch already safe in their spotted bellies. The watery grace of the river seemed magical to me at that moment.

The riverbank was lined with pods of wild peas. The pods were black, but inside there were tiny, succulent, fresh peas. I tasted one and it was scrumptious. Never did food wrapped in the devil’s cloak taste so good! Bending down, I scooped a hand through the water and drank my fill. It was thirst-quenching. I leaned my back against a rock and closed my eyes, enjoying the sun’s warmth. The sweet perfume of the forest drifted to my nostrils as I reflected on the beauty of nature.