This is a peaceful season. Every day, I wander around. Looking at the apples in the orchard, watching the people in the field busy harvesting, and watching someone in the park looking for a lover. My mother prepared delicious food for me, and my father was busy with work. Every night, I can enjoy cool and fragrant tea. I remember when I looked up at the sky, my grandfather often touched my head. When I feel that I am not happy enough, I study at school again and my friends are together again. So I was relieved and happy again.
But the days will pass, even if it is as long as a season. I remember every Mid-Autumn Festival, the whole family get together and enjoy the moon very happily. After moving several times, fewer people look at the moon. I remember getting up early every Mid-Autumn Festival. Because the yard is full of my favorite flowers and leaves, I'm going to clean it up. And because I like this festival. Until the weather turned cold, the rain came again, and there were too many leaves to sweep away. Autumn rain hits countless leaves, like a sad melody. At this moment, I can only think of "when * * * cuts the candle at the west window, when * * * talks about the rain at night". No matter how long autumn has passed, how long.
In fact, this season is very short. Watching the moon, climbing mountains and having fun seem like a day has passed. When I left home, I just changed some clothes quickly. In fact, every time I miss it, I have regrets. But every time, I will say to myself, "I will come back, and there will be autumn next year."
In recent years, whenever autumn comes, I have to write a composition, as if I want to express something, and then put it in the corner of my memory. When I wrote this year, I was more happy than the sadness of beat. This joy comes from visiting the flower market the day before yesterday. In the lazy sunshine, I saw many chrysanthemums, all kinds of which were pleasing to the eye. I walked around like a child. Suddenly I have a feeling that the posture of chrysanthemum flowers is reflected in my eyes, and it feels like autumn. Is the image of autumn like this? The faint sunshine stretches a lazy waist, wakes up from an ancient dream and blooms in its own spring.
Poetry: I walked along the first snow
Author (Russia) Ye Saining
I walked along the first snow,
The power in my heart is like a lily of the valley in full bloom.
On my way, at night
Light the stars like little blue candles.
I don't know if it's bright or dark.
Is the wind singing or the rooster crowing in the dense forest?
Maybe it's not winter in the fields,
But many swans landed on the grass.
Ah, the mirror image of the white earth, how beautiful you are!
A slight chill makes my blood boil!
How much I want my fiery body,
Cling to the bare chest of the birch tree.
Ah, the lush and muddy forest!
Ah, the comfort of snowy vilen!
How I want to stand on the branches of willow trees,
And transplanted my arms.
Bing Xin is laughing.
The rain died down and the light came in from behind the curtains. Open the window.
Look! The clouds are gone, and the residual water droplets on the leaves reflect the moon, like the fluorescence of a thousand points.
Blinking and moving. -I didn't expect such a picture after the bitter rain.
Meitu!
Standing in front of the window for a while, I felt a little cold. Turn around, and suddenly,
Dazzled, everything else in the room is hidden in the light cloud; Only a faint light.
An angel immersed in a painting on the wall. -angels in white, holding flowers, Yang.
Spread your wings and smiled at me slightly.
"This smile seems to have been seen somewhere. When will I ... "
I unconsciously sat under the window, thinking quietly.
The closed heart curtain slowly opened, pouring out an impression of five years ago.
A long ancient road. The mud under the donkey's feet is slippery. The water in the ditch,
It is gurgling. The green trees near the village are all caged in wet smoke. Bowed crescent moon, hanging
In the treetops. Walking, there seems to be a child on the side of the road, holding a bunch of Bai Dong.
West side. The donkey passed by with no intention of turning back. -He is holding flowers and barefoot.
Smile at me, son.
"This smile seems to have been seen somewhere!" I still want to-silently.
I really want to.
A gravitational curtain appeared again, slowly opened and gushed out a decade ago.
Impression. -the rain under the eaves falls on Mao's clothes drop by drop. terrace edge
Blisters, floating around. The straw and grape trellis in front of the door are all new.
Yellow and tender green are very nice. It cleared up after a while and soon went downhill.
Let's go When I saw the moon rising from the sea, it suddenly occurred to me that I had forgotten something.
Stop, turn around. The old woman in the hut leaned against the door.
Flowers, smile at me slightly.
This equally subtle expression, like a hairspring, flutters and closes.
Wan is together.
At this time, it is refreshing and peaceful, such as going to the celestial world and returning to my hometown. Three in front of my eyes
A smile, suddenly melting, can't be seen clearly in the harmony of love.
The rain died down and the light came in from behind the curtains. Open the window and have a look, ah! The clouds are gone, and the water droplets left on the leaves reflect the moon, flashing and moving like a thousand points of fluorescence. -I didn't expect that a person will have such a beautiful picture when it rains! Standing in front of the window for a while, I felt a little cold. When I turned around, I was dazzled, and everything else in the room was hidden in the light cloud; The faint light is only immersed in the angels in the paintings on the wall. -angels in white, holding flowers, holding wings, smiled at me. "This smile seems to be seen there. When will I-"I sat under the window and thought quietly. The closed heart curtain slowly opened, pouring out the impression of five years ago-a long ancient road. The mud under the donkey's feet is slippery. The water in the ditch gurgled. The green trees near the village are all caged in wet smoke, and the arched crescent moon hangs on the treetops. Walking, there seems to be a child on the side of the road, holding a pile of white things. The donkey entered the deficit and inadvertently looked back. He smiled at me barefoot with flowers in his arms. "This smile seems to have been seen there again!" I still want to-silently. There is another curtain of gravity, which slowly opens, pouring out an impression of ten years ago-the rain under the eaves of Mao dripping on the clothes. The blisters on the edge of the earth steps are turning. The wheat ridges and grape racks in front of the door are very bright yellow. -After a while, it finally cleared up and went downhill quickly. I saw the moon coming head-on from the sea, and suddenly remembered that I had forgotten something, stopped and turned around. The old woman in this small room-leaning against the door, holding flowers, smiled at me slightly. This equally subtle expression, like a hairspring, flutters and gathers together. At this time, it is refreshing and peaceful, such as going to the celestial world and returning to my hometown. San Xiao, who appeared in front of me, suddenly melted and couldn't see clearly in the harmony of love.