The rain in late autumn seems to be full of warm, sentimental girl, tearful eyes, clothes fluttering, with the wind, with a touch of sadness, ignite a cold spring dream, into the arms of the earth. The earth is palpitating, showing tenderness around its fingers, but it is a pity that after the lingering beauty, it is still so bleak and desolate.
Before the rain, the sky was gloomy, the cold wind was blowing rustling, and the withered sycamore leaves were dancing lightly in the air; the reeds by the river were bent, and the white catkins rose and fell, dancing softly; persimmons were blown red in the orchards; heavy ears of rice were blown in the fields; cold petals were blown down in the garden.
The autumn wind passed through the old window lattice, bringing a trace of coolness and caressing my warm cheek, so I opened my umbrella and walked out of the house. The sky gradually darkened, and soon it began to rain. It is closely oblique woven, so light, so graceful, affectionate, such as silk thread, such as flower needles, such as cow hair, the air is filled with a touch of fog. Under its nourishment, all things temporarily forget the chill of late autumn. On the lonely wooden bridge, I walk alone, my thoughts are fluttering.
Into the street, the rain is getting heavier and heavier, gradually like broken beads, constantly hard hit the streets covered with yellow leaves, splashing countless spray, a small halo, with a faint light, Ying Ying sparkling, like a beating elf. Pedestrians walk cautiously in twos and threes, holding umbrellas. The yellow ginkgo trees by the roadside drooped their heads, and the glittering water droplets on their leaves sparkled like round pearls, getting bigger and bigger and rickety, and finally ticked down on the pedestrian's umbrella.
River bank mixed with dead leaves of willow is still fluttering, charm still exists, Rain Water dripping into the river, green as emerald river suddenly filled with countless small circles, like a girl's dimples, permeated with the tender beauty of youth. Autumn rain drips on the delicate and beautiful red flowers of water lilies, and the flowers are washed spotlessly, making them more enchanting. Not far away, the fiery maple leaves rendered the whole river bank, red like a burning flame, so red that people could not open their eyes, as if to bring people to that blooming spring.
An autumn rain, a cool. Autumn wind rustling, bursts of attack, the rain stopped, I can not help but shiver, looking at the beautiful autumn scene that is about to pass away, a sense of loss arises spontaneously. The setting sun seems so sublime, But it is near its dying time. The cycle of life, the change of years, the change of seasons, this is the objective truth. However, time is gone forever, and life gives everyone only one chance. When they think of wasting their time and doing nothing, life is consumed little by little in a worthless operation, and they can't help but burst into tears and beat their breasts.
The rain in late autumn is a good medicine, warning the depraved people-cherish the present, study hard and live up to the time.
Post a comment