It's another year of harvest, with a gentle breeze and leaves falling.
When I was a child, I would step on the steps where the leaves were piled up, and then I would look up and take a bite of an apple that had not yet been plucked from the leaves, crisp, sweet, and a feeling that people could not forget, like biting down on the sweetness of the whole autumn.
Time is hurried, in this city with a more prosperous life, autumn is still beautiful, the leaves are still falling, the moon is still the same, but I can no longer smell the fragrance of the fruits in the air in the late autumn, the harvest season, and the fragrance of the soil wrapped in the morning dew.
I remember a long time ago, when there was a lot of land and a lot of crops, in the north there would be two harvests a year, harvested in the summer with golden ears of wheat, and harvested with golden corn cobs in the autumn. At that time, when the autumn harvest was over, because I was young, I couldn't help much, and my favorite thing was to walk through the tall corn forest and chase and frolic in the field after the harvest.
Catch grasshoppers, roast tender corn cobs, or chase the rabbits that occasionally jump out of the grass together.
I used to roll in the renovated dirt field, bouncing around in the slightly cold but soft land, taking off my shoes and stepping on the beach. I will also look at the bright moon in the distant starry sky at night with the sound of frogs, and fantasize about life when I grow up.
The years pass quietly, and the memories that precipitate in late autumn are as soft as marshmallows, and in the moonlight of memories, after gently remembering, the sweetness of candy will be emitted.
I have experienced a lot of late autumn, in the quiet passage of time, sometimes I feel as if I have experienced a long time, and sometimes I feel that everything seems to have changed between the whiskers.
The autumn in the memory is the ignorance of youth, the dream of watching the stars barefoot in the moonlight, and the current autumn is the cold wind in the morning light, and the xiaoxiao leaves that swirl and drift towards the alleys of the ancient city.
The soft flow of water in Jiangnan, on the surface of the water that flows far to the north and has no end in sight, in the waves of the water and the moonlight, the occasional twinkling starlight, which precipitates my thoughts in each late autumn, in the late autumn dusk, together with the colorful xia of the sky, turned into soft clouds and floated to the sky of my hometown.
【Text: Voice of Yutani】
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