The sky was filled with gray-white clouds, and the blue sky struggled in the clouds, but eventually fell deep into the clouds.
The color of the clouds gradually lost their white, achieving a gray swan song, and the wind stumbled and ran, the sound was like the wind passing by a high-speed railway.
When you listen carefully, only distant voices and the feeling of pain in the face and ears are left.
The rain began to fall gurglingly, like the choking of a young woman who had suffered a lot of grievances when she was extremely sad. As the drizzle deepened, the sky became more and more hazy, it was a kind of winter with a skinny, icy haze.
The plane tree has lost its huge leaves, and the tung bells on the branches are like elves, smeared with light yellow frost and shaking their heads proudly on the branches.
The thin branches of the tree slammed straight into the air, dancing in the hazy ice rain. The wet trunk of the tree, the black-brown folds dripping with winter rain, slow and persistent.
