Wendi Callaway                                                                       Assignment #3

142 Alaska St.                                                                         Yvette La Pierre

Wills Point, Tx. 75169                                                  July 10, 2001

#WE38646                                                                              About 370 words

                                                                                                Readership:  Age 15

 

 

 

 

 

The Master’s Art

 

My mind drifts back to a time in my quiet, subdued childhood, when Life was simple and I actually had opportunities to observe the artistic creations of God, listen to the sweet melodies of nature, and feel the exhilaration of the world around me.  Over the years, I have trained myself, as an artist, to really see the many wondrous things that surround me.  For instance, now I notice the gentle, swaying trees, whose leaves seem to slide down sudden gusts of wind.  I am now consciously aware of the innocence of squirrels and rabbits spending most of their crisp, sunny days romping through fields of wildflowers and chasing vibrant butterflies.

I remember I would stop and stand alone in the midst of the Master’s art.  To my right, I could see the blue stillness of distant, majestic mountains, climbing into the fluffy clouds.  To walk along their jagged peaks covered with flowing blankets of snow would

Callaway, page 2

Assignment 3

#WE38646

be like dancing with angels.  To my left, I could see the vastness of blue-green waters, the waves clapping against the rocky shores.  I imagine myself standing barefooted in the warm, moist sand, anticipating the coolness of the water embracing me.  Seagulls would clamor in my ears and dolphins would harmonize with the breeze.

In front of me, a field of wildflowers gaily beckons to my carefree spirit.  The field reminds me of an oil painter’s palette with its deep hues of violet, orange, and crimson.  I can almost feel my feet squishing through the thick colors as I run.  Then, when I roll around playfully, my hair and clothes become saturated with them.  Last of all, behind me, in the faint distance, I can barely see the hazy outline of the city, man’s attempt to reach the heavens.  However, the towering buildings seem to end abruptly, just short of God’s mansions, and I wonder why men even try.  All they have to do is come to this spot where I would stand, only a short distance away from them.  There, they would realize that God has brought a piece of heaven to them.