Descriptive Writing by Edith (5R)
I slowly walked through the coppice which was covered in dappled sunlight. The leaves shook cheerfully as a hazel-brown bird landed on a branch of a Great Oak, the bird had a distinctive orange chest which was the colour of flame. I instantly knew it was a robin and from its bright chest a male; I bid him good afternoon and carried on with my journey, but, instead of flying off me to find some food, he followed me along the path singing his merry little chorus all the way.
Once, when I had come to a river, he stopped as I leaped across on the stepping stones. The river whispered a welcoming song and I could see him fighting the urge to follow but once I had got across, he flew off. Probably a territorial thing I thought, but a part of me was still wishing he would follow, wishing I could turn back to be in his joyful company; but I had to be back for 6 o’clock, so I carried on.
Later on I came to a clearing with a big puddle in the middle of it. By the puddle was a deer drinking up its crystal clear contents. I slowly walked out of the coppice leaving behind the trees dappled in sunlight.
St Martha’s Hill by Charles (5R)
The woods of St Martha’s Hill beckon for adventure in the wild. The towering trees let in some of the sweet sunlight. The wild life there is happy. The forest is filled to the brim with beautiful plants. There is a twist of tangled paths. The woods hide a church deep within. The church has old ivy dangling like fingers. St Martha’s Church has held secrets over the centuries it has been standing tall.
Hambledon Common by Joshua (5R)
Hambledon Common is my favourite forest. When I’m on the rope swing, I feel like I’m a bird flying as high as the Eiffel Tower. The view from the top of the hill is so high I can nearly touch the clouds. The clearing is empty and it is the size of Buckingham Palace. The sand is as soft as my dog’s fur. The trees are as old as the Roman Colosseum and are as strong as houses. The wood is as quiet as the Sahara Desert.The leaves are as green as the summer grass. In the winter, the mud is as thick as a brick and the pond is as black as a summer night.
