A wisp of autumn wind rises, a thought of lovesickness.
A season of autumn, a lifetime of joy, a lot of entanglement, you are well, I am fine.
Autumn is yellowed in the story, flooding the appearance of old people and old things, cold nostalgia, light heart, the charm of a cloud, and the thought of a gust of wind.
Autumn is not just a faint sentimentality, not just a slight cool time, but also the quiet beauty of reading the glitz, and the clarity of white dew and frost.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="6" > Fan Wen Appreciation: "Autumn Thoughts"</h1>
The wanderer has one less ticket to return home, and the moon at the head of the willow has since become a chord. - Caption
Alone in a foreign land for strangers, every festive season to think of relatives. Living in a foreign country, he could not sleep for a long time in the middle of the night. In a trance, there was a whining sound of holes.
The sound, through the light wind, blowing across the river, into the fishing boats, the bells of Hanshan Temple accompanied by the chirping of the jackdaws, and the unfinished poems on the cases in front of the window came to him into this dream.
The autumn wind is the messenger of the seasons, it dyes the rivers and mountains gradually, it blows the moonlight into dewdrops, it brings lovesickness to a lonely and lonely heart, and it dyes the sideburns with snow. When I was a child, I lived in the village, where the autumn smell always came first, the morning breeze was slightly cool, the light of the first day had a mist, and the fallen leaves covered the steps. I always like to walk through the long fields when the first autumn breeze comes, the golden wild chrysanthemums gradually open, the golden rice waves rolling in, and the fingertips dripping with golden sunlight.
Crabapples are pale, white dew is frost, the so-called Yi people, on the water side. On the banks of the Qiushui River, there is always a period of endless lovesickness, how many years of lonely waiting, how many times of frequent looking back, how many warm stories have found the protagonist, and how many people have gone lost at the end of the world. The sunset and the lone bird fly together, and the autumn water is long and colorful. The sun is dark, the autumn water is long, the distant mountains have clouds, the long pine breeze, the time is leisurely strolling, the fallen flowers are gently picked up, the past is permanently sealed, and the lost deceased is said goodbye. Suddenly, I felt that growing up calmly was also a kind of beauty, like a flower blooming in Shaohua, like a pool of water hiding his heart, like a painting that ended the past, like a pot of tea calming the end.
Flowers bloom in spring, curtains roll in summer, leaves fall in autumn, and snow hides in winter. Ink light life, do a ray of moonlight, fall in the xiaoxiao courtyard shallow, sprinkled in front of the window of the old book, brewed into a thin word. The leaves fall everywhere is beautiful, the deep lane long gate, the stone bridge ancient town, the deep mountain grass path, the hedge falls into the evening smoke, the beauty into the painting; after the rain, fill in a new word, wet rhyme feet; fall on the shoulders of pedestrians, fall into the eyebrow bend, see your waves of autumn water eyes, slightly swept, beautiful as the past.
Stepping onto the stone steps, he faintly smelled the old singing voice, and the wind and moon in the words turned him half his life. Here, stone and wood, static or moving, brick by brick, or cracked or broken, became a picture in his heart.
The sound of the hole is sometimes low, sometimes high-pitched, like the startle of a small flower cat suddenly falling from the roof to under the eaves, and like the dullness of falling to the ground while climbing a willow tree. It is like this long pavilion with twists and turns, and there is no end to it. Walking through the promenade, the wind around the corner wrinkled the clothes. He also bypassed the weeping willows of the purple sun, and the folding umbrella also brought a fragrance, and the falling rain wet his eyes.
Cold and clear, a touch of moonlight dimmed the stone walls. The dripping raindrops slipped from the eaves and fell into the pool in the courtyard, but the ripples in the circle could not be exchanged for his full belly. Bathed in the cold moonlight, he remembered the cracks of each stone clearly, but he didn't know how many years of wind and frost it had read.
The sound of the hole gradually disappeared, only the sound of the gust of wind was heard, and there was no way to stay. Old alleys under the setting sun, lanes in the moonlight. They also lose their color, like the light ink on the letterhead. I can't think about it, but it's a pale paper, a night of empty dreams. He got up and put on his clothes, and once again pondered this autumn thought sentence by sentence a few times before the case.
In the distant sky, the east revealed the white belly of the fish. The autumn wind in Luoyang City rose, and his thoughts drifted with the hongyan to the distance, staining the red leaves on the mountain. I haven't returned for a long time, is my family safe? Unsolved, he composed a poem:
Seeing the autumn wind in Luoyang City, I want to write a book with great meaning.
Fear hurriedly said no end, pedestrians before the opening and opening.
【Famous Teacher's Comments】
This is an essay describing the wandering son Qiusi, the language is very connotative, highlighting the author's deep feelings of longing, writing in the third person, the scene description is rendered very consistent with the feelings, people touch the scene, can't help but enter the deep thoughts with the author.
- The End -
Author | Teacher Liu talks about special education
Pictures | Source from the Internet (if the infringing contact is deleted)
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