The sky is beautiful, the clouds are thick and thin, the gaps reveal blue, very blue and very blue, even if there are gray clouds, it is only a light gray, and the sun's dazzling light is permeated between the dense.
The autumn wind blows quickly and slowly, and the ripples on the river surface are next to each other, sometimes dense, sometimes sparse, twisting forward. The greenery of the river has become much thicker, and the dead branches and leaves of aquatic plants have been bundled up by the river workers, neatly stacked on the river embankment, quietly waiting for the boat to carry it. The boat that carried it back, as it sailed by, the ripples of the stern splashing water were filled with the unrelenting verses of "Farewell to the Bridge of Kang".
On the shore, the tall figure of the Luan tree changes color in the wandering autumn light, translucent pink, shallow; bright yellow, soft; faint Zen, sandwiched in the middle, quietly dangling in the wind, left and right, back and forth, the direction is just my obsession, Luan fruit in the undulating completion of phaseless ripening.
On the autumn-colored grass under the trees, the pale pink, light yellow, and shallow luan fruits were paved into one piece, and another piece, plump and full into a light and nothing.40 state. The short blades of grass support the luan fruit, and also hold the curly leaves of the sycamore, and time flies between the warm storage.
The wind is the most merciless, plucking the luan fruit, turning over the tung leaves, and then shaking the green or yellow grass leaves, and then turning around and going without a trace, only the figure of the luan fruit flying down from the branches swaying out of the soul of the wind. Luo Guo found his sister on the blade of grass, hugging, hugging, I don't know if it is sadness or joy, and the tears have not yet flowed out.
The sky was still painting it, using the blue and white it liked, and perhaps a little bit of gray.