Autumn has gone and winter has come again. The green leaves are gone, leaving only the thin trunk. Is the heart still there?
this winter has come a little early. Many of my thoughts are still in the dream of autumn sunset, and I don't want to wake up again and again, and I am in a daze all day long in the bleak winter. Don't live the past, then look for it, talk easy?
The wilderness is silent, and there is still smoke in the distance, because it is morning, and this touch of beauty left in this unchanging world for thousands of years will eventually disappear without a trace in the future. Grass, all become barren grass, dry people can't believe it, once it was so full of vitality. The water in the river is green and chilly, and the algae in the river seems to be hiding in the water, as if it knows it. It's a cold winter.
I always feel lonely and aimless. It's cold, no matter how much clothes you wear, you can't warm your lonely heart. If I can, I would like to turn into a breeze and float away at will; If I can, I would like to be an algae and hide in cold water, although I don't know if it is lonely.
Calm down, calm down and look at the sky indifferently. Maybe there are clouds floating in the winter sky, but the coming and going of clouds, such as the gathering and scattering of duckweed, doesn't have much meaning in itself, but I can't forget you.
I think of you, and I shouldn't have thought of you in this desolate winter. I shouldn't have been so sad. I think of you, and I have many wonderful memories, but I can't blur my memories in the past.
I know you well, but I can't stand you, and I don't want to try my best to please you. But you don't understand me, and it turns my mood into anger and frustration again and again. If love is invisible, I can let hate come true, but I can't hate you.
Your selfishness, willfulness, small temper, and your rudeness have intensified. I hide on the other side of the world, but I can't escape you.
is this winter? It does look like you!
Look, before long, the snow will be overwhelming, full of poetry again, covering up all the disappointments. Even if the snow turns into water, it will melt the heart into the soil, and with new hope, in the spring breeze in the coming year, it will grow green leaves, bloom flowers and be full of vitality!
In winter, I lost myself in winter, but I saw you more clearly in winter. In winter, all the beauty was lost in Hwa-Sung Do, but I didn't die because of it, just waiting for a ray of spring, the mountains and rivers were still beautiful, the vegetation was still green, and I gradually understood the meaning of life.
in winter, although you are not beautiful, I don't want to miss you.
In winter, although you are not gentle, I don't want to lose you.
In winter, feel the truth of life in the winter of life cycle! Let life be more substantial and meaningful! Essay: Winter Essay 2
Bored after dinner, strolling by the winter river. The weeds are sad and cold, but the fishermen are still the same: they come to the shore early and throw bait for fishing. The cold never seems to affect them.
The quiet path by the river, where the breeze blows over the willow and reed flowers, is like a distant old song, gentle and rustling, with a quaint and elegant charm. Thinking about stealing a half-day leisure, or sitting under a small window, at a stone table, drinking a cup of tea, or leaning against the bridge fence, the edge of the clear water, thinking that flowers will bloom and clouds will gather. Or draw a landscape, hold a lane of poetry, taste the eternal life and feel thousands of customs. The in the mind then unprovoked some generous. It seems that the usual pursuit in the world of mortals is missed in various situations.
A clump of green grass comes into our eyes unexpectedly. It is so fresh and pleasing to the eye in this world where everything is dying. It is the persevering guardian of vitality. With it, the earth will have fire and people will have hope. Looking around, we can see that all kinds of greens exist in various forms, under trees, in grass, in rock crevices, on roadsides, by water, in many nameless places, a wisp or a piece, a stem or a cluster, or dark green, light green, or yellow green. They are holding on to their vitality, waiting, expecting, and passing on until the severe winter is over and spring blossoms. At that time, they retire and disappear into the ocean of vitality. They are just like our people. When there are heroes, they are safe in know life. When the heroes disappear, they guard them in a different form. They look ordinary and humble, but they are tenacious and great. Only in the cruel winter can they see their true colors. Although they are not heroic, they are heroic.
The sun slowly hangs like a flaming fireball in the trees in the east. It is golden and dazzling. Under its general crossing, the broken branches and leaves of trees are swept away and decadent, and they cheer up and stand on the horizon with dazzling splendor. Reed flowers have always been the most ordinary in the world of mortals, with neither beautiful flowers nor exotic fruits, even its dense green leaves, which are punctured. But in this winter, its swaying white hair, caged in the golden morning glow, is like a beautiful gown on a cage, which has a dazzling effect. They are swaying, roaring and frolicking in the wind, and they have no resentment against the cold winter, but they are full of gratitude for the warmth of winter. The river is full of blue waves and colorful. Not only in front of us, but also in the distance, Jiuzhou and Eight Wastes have a warm aura, creating a dreamlike oil painting in this plain of northern China.
I occasionally see a tree, which grows in a big bush, with branches sticking out from the big tree above its head, and its feet are densely intertwined with weeds. It still stretches its branches in a drizzly way, facing the whole life frankly and frankly, and its heart can't help but soften. I missed its hard struggle when it was rough, and I ignored its wanton youth. Now it has bare branches and residual leaves, but it is neither humble nor humble. Although it is not at its most beautiful moment, is it also a kind of luck compared with those waiting that will not be seen for a lifetime? In the world of mortals, there are too many regrets, and I cherish the encounter in front of me.
"Those three guns outside the Yuanmen." There was a loud singing voice of Henan Opera. It was a sanitation worker in Hekou Park who was enjoying himself while working. He was an old worker in his fifties. He often got up early and cleaned the garbage the night before while no one was cleaning the park. By the time people got up for morning exercises, he had finished cleaning and listened and sang with a singing machine in his hand. He often said: life depends on your own management. If you put your heart into it, life will be beautiful everywhere. Listening to his plays and thinking about his words, my heart is a little abrupt, and life has never met him favorably, but he is always so open-minded and generous that people can't help but admire and respect him. Life has never treated me badly, but I am always depressed and full of complaints. Being a descendant of China, how can the gap be so big?
The river is very long, but the winding path is short. When I walk through this winding path, my heart suddenly relaxes, as if this winter is no longer as cold and long as it was the other day. Essay: Winter Essay 3
It is raining outside the window, and the smell of winter permeates the whole city, which makes me add clothes. I can't help but wonder why this ghost winter is so cold, giving me a sad feeling of "through pale snow-patches in the jagged night mountains, a lonely stranger" in the poem! Instead of the poet's eyes, it is like the ice and snow feelings in the glass world. DuDu! DuDu! DuDu! The phone rang, and it did! It's a home phone. As soon as I answered the phone, I heard my mother say, "It's cold. Remember to wear more clothes. If you have no money, call home!"! Don't carry it by yourself. Come back and have a look when you have time. We're still here! Hearing this, my tears can't help falling down, perhaps because my sentimental heart can't stand this lonely winter! I suppressed my emotions and said to the mother, "Mom, I have something to do. I'll talk about it later! I just hung up the phone. In fact, it's not that I don't want to answer the phone, but that I don't want to show my vulnerability to my parents, even though I am a child in their eyes! But this may be my disappointing self-esteem.
I looked out of the window and thought about what my mother just said. My mood surged again. Yes, I'm not alone. I still have a home. I can't help but think of Meng Jiao's "Wandering Sons". "the thread in the hands of a fond-hearted mother, makes clothes for the body of her wayward boy. Carefully she sews and thoroughly she mends, dreading the delays that will keep him late from home ". Yes, I should go back! In this busy work, I seem to have forgotten those two old people at home. I haven't called home for a long time? I haven't talked to them for a long time, and I haven't been back for a long time! I can't help but get lost in thought.
Turn over the book in your hand and read: "you who have come from my old country, tell me what has happened there!. Was the plum, when you passed my silken window, cold plum blossoms are blooming! . Suddenly, I felt homesick, fantasizing about sitting under the old buttonwood in front of the building, drinking wine with my father and chatting with my mother. Eating my favorite dish makes my heart warm, as if it were not cold this winter.
Go home often, pour a cup of tea, put a bowl of rice, ask a cold, simple but enough, go home often, even if you have had some unpleasant experiences, maybe the pain may be helpless, but it has become a thing of the past. Really want to go home often, don't wait until you miss it, after all, it's home, and if it's gone, it's really gone.
I can't help thinking, if one day, my family is old and can't call us, how can we know about my parents' recent situation? If we are still busy with our work and neglect our family, will we regret it later? If we think about it now and say in the future: if I can start over, I will! Is there a wake-up call? Do you look at the present and cherish the present? "Life has been in a hurry for eighty years, and Nan Ke woke up from a dream. Mo Tao has no memories in this life, but he hates life on the bridge. "
Although it is very cold this winter, my heart is warm.
Like a flaming volcano, it is about to erupt! Essay: Winter Essay 4
Winter has already started when the rustling cold wind twisted the waist and got into people's collars, causing bursts of skin and blood vessels. It comes quietly and with great fanfare. It is quiet and noisy. The sun flies in a hurry. The lonely moon is thin and lonely. The yellow weeds and the night in Leng Yan inadvertently simplify everything.
On a chilly winter day, huddled under the covers, listening to the purring of the window lattice, the wind played the beat like an experienced drummer, and the fallen leaves and dust were swept high by the wind, and fell like a spring that had lost its weight. The winter wind lost its softness and became more wild, and kept acting recklessly. It is said that the cold winter has drained people's longing for winter, and the rest is a hard injury that the body can't stretch. I don't know when it will start, and the wind is freezing and the frost is flying, which has become all the images of winter. When I was asleep, I woke up like a dream. When I was a child, I drew with my hands on the window, snowballed and made a snowman, hiding and playing hide-and-seek, my hands and little face were red with cold, and the smile in my eyes was still not halved. When I wake up in the morning, a person looks through the glass at the frost covered the earth outside the house, desperately suppressing the awe and fear of various mysterious forces of nature. In the past countless winters, millions of winds have blown, testing mankind, and we can't escape the forests with lofty destiny.
a stone, a tree, annual rings rotating, white clouds and pale dogs, this year will eventually pass. The changing seasons are mixed with fragile time, and they are broken in an instant with a touch. At the end of this tough four seasons, the cold wind, frost, night rain and snow come in unison, just like the refusal in a certain period of people's memory and the irresistible coercion during the trek.
In the chaotic winter, the calendar on the desk is ruthlessly turned over, and the memories of the past are suddenly far away and near, and the accumulated sparks are suddenly hidden. In this December, a trace of melancholy is actually derived from thinking, and the young child speaks, the willow branches reveal new green, and the frost climbs up the eyebrows of his parents. Life is originally Tai Chi between heaven and earth, balanced and restrained, impartial, leaving and meeting, but it is just a fixed way to cross. You who are happy, you who are silent, you who are sad and you who are sweet will all be the past and the only one in our limited edition.
Fortunately, I'm not a wanderer, I didn't feel wandering, and I didn't look back and miss a place. This is my hometown. I grew up here, and I grew old here after all. When I was young, I cherished my dreams and longed to travel around the world with my sword. Finally, I found that such a wish was just the gravel on earth, the breeze against the sky, and I disappeared. When we get older, we are busy making a living, get used to the hustle and bustle of the world, learn to measure when we meet people, and play with earthly fireworks all day long. After a year, only in the deep and lazy winter can we take a break, miss the warmth, cherish the memory of spring, and reveal a slow look back on 365 days and nights.
On a dry winter day, I smell a kind of humidity and desire. The luxuriant chlorophytum hangs down, and the delicate buds are shyly covered with the shoulders of Crab Claw Orchid. I knock on the keyboard at will and look at the old photos, three years ago, five years ago and ten or twenty years ago. By contrast, I find that many things suddenly appear and suddenly disappear, such as eyes. I am seriously looking for some eternity that has remained unchanged for decades, and it is still traceless after years, such as smiling. When I was in junior high school, I wore a men's school uniform, I had short hair and thorns, and I had a small and fresh white shirt. I had a dazzling time in my life, and I crossed the cycle and still set off a storm in my calm heart. I know that no matter how old I am, goodbye is also the beginning. The power it implies is the "avalanche" in The Legend of Wulin, which exerts endless positive energy and is the ultimate collection that life longs to share and carefully care for.
In the subtle winter, I would like to do this often, and use my years to break through the gloomy desolation of winter, so that the brightness can spread inch by inch, like reeds, and the whole city is in full bloom in front of my eyes, in my brow, and in the time of smiling. Essay: Winter Essay 5
It's always such a season, which breeds inextricable knots. There are always too many spring flowers and autumn moons destined to be left behind in stories with no ending and reincarnation, silently comforting old scars.
It's always such a season. Stumbling steps bring a faint burning pain in my heart, and there will always be ideal wings falling into the boundless expanse, longing for the wind letter of melting ice into milk.
It's always such a season, and it's too late to catch up with the curtain call of the four seasons. Many flying excitement and warm applause have become lazy memories. At this time, I can only whisper my nostalgic heart and soothe my desolate mind alone.
It's always such a season, and we can't find the bridge to return home and the way forward, the banner that can guide our journey with hope and sincere solicitude. I can't find the desire of spring, the flame of summer and the rich waves of autumn, and I'm lost in my vast expanse, looking forward to the reincarnation of the wind and warmth. < P > Alas, it's always such a seasonal essay: Winter Essay 6
Because I'm used to getting up early, I have the opportunity to witness the scenery in those mornings.
the scenery in the sky. In winter, before dawn at five o'clock in the morning, if there is no moon, it will still be full of stars. The constellation Ursa major, the constellation Ursa minor, the Milky Way across the sky, and the meteor that streaks across the sky from time to time all make the sky seem a little strange. Finally, I will set my eyes on the shining Big Dipper, and then follow the connection of Tian Shu Star and Tianxuan Star to find the star that is unremarkable but always gives directions to the lost people. As time goes on, there are fewer stars in the sky, leaving only a few morning stars to meet.