Autumn people, Spring people

Creative Writing Task : Writing from a model 

Autumn People, by Ray Bradbury (excerpt):

"That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun, whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.”

For these beings, fall is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth....Such are the autumn people.” Ray Bradbury

Using Ray Bradbury's writing as a model, I've produced my own piece - this time about Spring people. Using the passage above as a framework for my writing, I've only changed the words and sentences underlined. Compare the two pieces and see how similar and yet how different they sound.

Spring People, by Teresa Jardim

That country where it is always morning. That country where the hills are emerald green and the rivers are crystal-clear; where sunrises linger, and light is soft and the weather mild. That country composed in the main of gardens, meadows, and prairies, parlours, verandas and porches facing the sun, whose people are spring people, thinking only spring thoughts. People passing at the break of dawn  across scented gardens sound like light steps on the grass, or the breeze gently whispering through the leaves of trees.

For these beings, spring is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? Scented gardens. Where do they go? To the ponds and lakes, and creeks. What stirs their veins? Waterfalls. What ticks in their head? The song of birds. What speaks from their mouth? The nightingale. What sees from their eye? The butterfly. What hears with their ear? The wildflower by the brook. They search the human heart for joy, nourish compassionate thoughts, fill their homes with the laughter of children. They grow and flourish....Such are the spring people.

What would you write about summer people? Or winter people? Or spring people?  Would you like to give it a try?