"Snow by the River"

Ding Younian Xin Unitary Day, chaotic clouds, fine snow.

Time and moon urge, the willow leaves by the river finally withered away.

The previous days were especially cool at a dozen degrees, but at this time it has turned into the light cold of early winter.

The twilight was like a pile, so the sky could not penetrate the heavy curtain, and gradually darkened. Only the ghostly light wanders between the thin and uneven cloud gaps, like silver hooks and iron strokes, which are obscure and uncertain.

It's the first snow of the year, right? Fine snow like sand, gently falling.

Looking up, I couldn't see where it came from, but I clearly felt the traces of its final return—

The earth was still warm, and it passed away, only a little wet, and returned to the wild.

However, the snow finally grew larger, slowly, slowly, and gradually became feathery, and it had the appearance of leaning against the window to watch the snow when I was a child.

Strolling along the river, it is not cold yet, and there is a slight temperature of water vapor that is characteristic of snowy days.

The lotus leaves were broken, and a few dead stems suddenly pierced the surface of the stream, standing up in a daze, and the thicker the clouds, the darker the sky. The water surface is still. The place where the residual lotus is reflected in the water is a dark ink, but the shadow of the clouds in the sky is a faint blue-gray, like the clear fresh water shadow in the splashed ink landscape lined with several pieces of Geng Geng lonely stones.

I flipped through the calendar of my mobile phone and knew that the snow had passed, and in a few days, I would enter the snow season.

When it rains, it is thinned by the cold, so it condenses into snow. Small, unsatisfactory. Light snow, the first weather rainbow is hidden; the second weather rises and the earth's atmosphere falls; and the third weather is closed and wintered. The big one, Sheng Ye, and so far and the snow Sheng Ye. Heavy snow, one waits for the gulls and cranes to not whine; the second waits for the tiger to make friends; and the third waits for the lily to stand out. This smallpox from the end of the day to the grand winter is really born from the sense of things!

It turned out that the years had drifted by so carelessly...