How to write a composition on Mount Putuo for the fourth grade

Putuo Mountain, the holy land of the South China Sea, sits alone in the East China Sea, misty and ethereal. The bright yellow temple reflected in the sea water is like a dream, and the scenery is beautiful. It is indeed the most pure place in the world.

As I walked towards the seaside, I encountered waves of salty sea breeze. The wind was like a gentle palm, ruffling my hair. My hair was flying messily in the wind, blurring my vision and soothing my heart. Walking onto the fine and soft beach, taking off the burdensome shoes, one step at a time, slowly walked towards the seaside. The moment my toes touched the sea water, the cold sea water seemed to turn into a warm spring and washed away my heart. At this moment, my long-held wish came true. I felt like a toddler who had seen a new toy. I couldn't suppress the surging excitement in my heart. I rolled up my trousers and rushed towards the sea. The water reached my ankles, and waves came to me one after another. The gravel under your feet keeps sinking and rising with the tide of sea water. Sometimes if you don't pay attention to your steps, your heels will slowly sink into the sand with the rhythm of the sea water, and you may even step on the air. With each exclamation, the journey to the seaside begins again. Added a bit of surprise.

At dawn the next day, I came to Puji Temple. When you step into the temple gate, you will feel the solemnity and purity of the Buddha's land. Although there are many people coming and going, which one does not have a serious face and reverence for the Buddha in his heart? Inside the temple, cigarette smoke curls up into the sky. The simple temple adds a sense of mystery amidst the dense smoke.

In the afternoon, I came to a quiet fishing village by the sea. When you walk into the fishing village, you will not see the hustle and bustle of the city. Everything is the most primitive and primitive. The flat-roofed houses next to each other, the moss-covered stone roads, and the gracefully curved stone arch bridges quietly tell us about the quiet life of the fishing village. White walls and black tiles, surging waves, wooden doors and windows, and mottled paint mark the traces of time. It seemed that everything stopped at this moment, leaving me alone wandering in the quiet and quiet village.

"There are fairy mountains on the sea, and the mountains are in the ethereal world." It is such a small island shrouded in clouds and mist, isolated from the world, but it makes me linger.

Goodbye, Mount Putuo!