Towards dusk, it began to rain. Holding an umbrella sullenly, walking in the rain. The buttonwood tree with all the leaves still shining in the rain is warm, and the willow tree by the river is still green. Suddenly, I think that I am still walking in autumn. When I arrived in Yang Shulin by the river, I realized that winter was coming after all. On all the poplars, there is not a leaf in sight, only branches pierce the sky like long arms, standing solemnly in the rain, like soldiers ready to go, waiting for the horn to blow ... Listening to the sound of rain all the way, they slowly merged into the world of rain.
I don't know why, this winter's rain makes people feel depressed. Walking at will, I came to the lotus pond that I often go to in summer. I saw a gray misty rain on the water, and several withered residual lotus plants were crooked. The rain hit the residual lotus, making a crisp and beautiful sound, like an invisible hand plucking the strings. Suddenly, the whole world moved. Li Shangyin casually recited a poem by He: "Lotus leaf hate was born in spring, and dry hate was born in autumn." And the phrase "autumn cloudy frost flies late, leaving dry lotus to listen to the sound of rain" is really consistent with this scene at this time. The looming congenital sadness in Li Shangyin's poems is so hard to be moved by words against the ripple of the residual lotus. Therefore, the remaining lotus flowers, even related lotus flowers, lotus leaves and even lotus roots, can be recalled for a while.