Walking in the autumn mood

Open the calendar do not need to look at any calendar, look outside the window to know that autumn has come. The thick autumn fog is everywhere, dotted with drops in the spider's web, pearls are generally lustrous. When the sun licked these luster slowly dry, the mantle of autumn has long been drawn, maple leaves are beginning to star to become girls up, red like love is being mellowed by spirits blazing. The sky is also vast, and the clouds, too, are walking soothingly in the blue sky, just like a philosopher. Look at your feet, laying a thick layer of gold, stepping on it is like walking in the clouds. Just look up at the spider and there is some disappointment because autumn is, after all, a silent season, but also a little bit of the coolness of winter.

Besides, you don't need to look out the window, you can feel the mood of autumn. The fog is thick and light; the golden leaves are dancing; the maple leaves are red; the sky becomes vast and blue; the white clouds are light and soothing; the spiders are busy and frustrated. ...... All these are not a materialization of the season's unique mood. The mind reincarnates between the four seasons, and the mind of autumn is like this, walking through the thick, dead leaves, then listening to the sound of spiders spitting silk, thundering in a virtual sky.

The leaves on the tree fluttered yellow, the spider rested on a high branch and stopped weaving its web, the bare pole, the wheel of the spider web became the best embellishment for the tree, the more precious it was. The tree was busy saying goodbye to the leaves that had been abducted by the wind, while the leaves were ignoring the tree's wishes and were busy going to what they thought was a wider world, cheering to break free of the branches. Only the spider is the most relaxed, the last meal of the year is also the most sumptuous dinner, but also a little reluctant to mouth because eating this most sumptuous dinner should go to hibernation. Although it has a good harvest this year, the winter snowflakes have been brewing in the distance, it can only be more to see the forest in autumn and winter and then had to go to prepare for hibernation. When it wakes up next year, the forest will be filled with too many too rotten flowers and greenery, far less open than today's view. It has a bit of frustration in the thick of the relaxation, that is, it has never known how the snowflakes float in winter, but that is a dream that is forever out of reach, just a myth that you have to listen to the trees tell every year. There is also the wheel of the carefully woven silver net in the snowy sky and where the soul returned. But it is only a flash, those things they can never reach are a kind of the fifth season that does not exist. Because after all, hibernation is too beautiful a relief, and even better is that after hibernation will be a day with a more stretchable web weaving talent. ......

Autumn has just slowly peeled away from the crowdedness of summer, while the distant winter has already begun to capture her with its snowy, thick cold. Autumn then becomes a pain so short as to be suffocating, even before it can be felt in a flash, so that winter rolled into withered yellow and yellow dust, dissipating in the ice-like air to nothing. The autumn becomes a shuddering ego when one does not feel one's existence.

And what am I? Do you see the last leaf on the tip of the tree? It is the one that painstakingly clings to the wind, and is a piece of summer's longing for spring. But that's all it is. What else can we do but miss it?

In this dense and boundless forest, a small leaf is not even a tree embellishment, only tens of millions of leaves can constitute a kind of embellishment, for a leaf, how is this feeling? But who has ever considered the feelings of a leaf?

In this game of seasons, even the season itself is not in control of ah!

I don't know what kind of leaf it is, but I hope it is a deep magnolia leaf so that it can be lush until summer comes again, and hang its thoughts of spring high on the branches of spring.

Because that is the only love letter that autumn writes to spring.