Winter rain

The sky was gray, covered by a huge gray-white curtain. Looking up, it looks like a huge white and gray canvas. A few pieces of clouds with various postures that have been dipped in thick ink are flowing quietly on them. The edges and corners are like mountains, the twists and turns are like rivers, and they are like a landscape painting. However, it rained. With the cold wind, raindrops fell on my face, adding a bit of chill. But I also became more sober. Then there was a shiver, wrapped the clothes tightly, and looked around: The house had already closed the doors and windows, but the winter rain fell on the glass of the window bit by bit, as if the tinkling sound could still be heard. Raindrops slide down the glass, leaving Rain marks, like hands made of water, stroking and wiping the dust on the glass on the window. There were many pedestrians on the road, but there was no feeling of bustling. People all lowered their heads and stepped forward to avoid the winter rain! There are still several remaining leaves on the poplar trees on the roadside trembling in the cold wind with raindrops. Was it the cold wind wrapped in rain that could not bear to blow away the remaining leaves, and wanted to leave some memories for poplar trees, so that she could warm herself in winter? Thinking like this, I felt a warm current in my heart. Winter rain is not like spring rain. Although it is also pattering, there is no feeling of diving into the night with the wind and moistening things silently. It is not like the rain in summer, as if it wants to destroy something, or as if it is chasing something. The sky was dyed by the imitation of the Buddha statue, with lightning and strong wind, coming impatiently and hurriedly. It is not like the rain in autumn. The dye is just so-so, dyed the lush forest in the mountain, painted the emerald green in the field. The yellow fields are fine, where we have harvested, while the Yellow Mountain forest seems desolate and smells of death. What does winter rain look like? The withered yellow branches of poplar on the roadside pricked into the gray sky, like an old man full of confusion in his eyes, trying to recall his ever green past. The mountain forest seemed to have not recovered, looking at the leaves covering the ground, it was also trying to recall yesterday’s lush. Winter rain, are you wiping their remaining memories? Raise your head, the sky will still be gray. I want to clear away the clouds and see the sky outside. I want to see the morning glow and sunset, and also want to count the stars. This everlasting eternity, having seen the vicissitudes of the sea, and also experiencing the dry and rotten sea, she must have endless stories and countless memories in her heart. Who will wipe off the dust on her memory window? What is her winter rain? Maybe it was the fire of the overlord of the Western Chu dynasty, which turned the Qin Palace into ashes and the Qin dynasty into dust fluttering in the wind; Maybe it was the rolling water of the Yangtze River, and he had searched out too many stories, too many hero. Those stories and influences all changed into waves along with the river and integrated into the vast ocean of history; Or maybe it was Genghis Khan’s tough cavalry, mighty and vigorous, tornado seems to sweep away the past and erase the old memory. Hundreds of years of Song Dynasty was rolled up and thrown into the deep universe. I lowered my head, and the withered branches of poplar in front of my eyes pricked into the gray sky, but those leaves were gone. Suddenly an inexplicable fear spread in our hearts. Will our history be like this poplar tree? Hurriedly, I looked over: with the water of Yangtze River, the white spray carrying heroes and stories blended into the sea, but turned into a bigger spray, with the majestic galloping in the vast ocean; the dust burnt from the glorious palace of Qin Dynasty turned into fertilizer, which made the tree of history stronger and more luxuriant; song dynasty, which had gone through hundreds of years of wind and rain, became a bright star under the night of history, and achieved eternity with the morning glow and sunset. Along the street, I walked forward quietly. However, at this moment, I am not looking at the gray sky, the poplar branch piercing into the sky. I can’t even feel the chill of cold rain falling on my face with the cold wind. I know that the cold winter rain can only wipe off some dust, and the windows of that house will only become brighter. As for that poplar tree, after losing the last few leaves, there will be a heavy snow covering it and a green dream in the near future. When the spring breeze blows his face in the coming year, he will become taller and more prosperous, just because of the desolate and cool winter rain that was not so popular…… Like (prose editor: prose online) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. Maybe because of a certain commitment, or because of a certain… Be good at listening to different voices and opinions On October 6th, I published a travel essay: “beautiful autumn scenery”, which was obtained by many literary websites… Read The Bridges of Madison County “When the white moth spreads its wings, you can come to me at any time”. I think, if I am a man, be accepted… From today on, I want to be happy I read “the biography of Hulan River” long time ago, and I remember that I was really in a heavy mood for a long time. Which characters caused me… Sick time I sneezed one after another these days. I said someone was reading me and others said I was sick. Finally, the doctor also said I was…

First Snow

Sleepless at night, listening to autumn rain knocking on the window. Exquisite and crisp, with the sound of gold and stone. Thinking about a layer of autumn rain and a layer of cold, there should be a frosty morning tomorrow. When I got up in the morning, I couldn’t hear the rain. Looking through the window, it seemed that there was still bright rain in the air. The window was covered with cold and damp air. After standing for a long time, I felt cold at my fingertips. I thought of a song poem for no reason. The Curtain was frosted in the morning, and I tried the plum makeup. I wonder if you have thought of it. When I went out with an umbrella, I realized that it was not rain, but tiny snow. Falling on the umbrella, the floc was like whispers. On the wet flagstone road, the big leaves of plane trees scattered quietly withered. The Wintergreen tree was covered with glittering and clear moisture, and the Morning Glory was no longer blooming, leaving the lingering vines and leaves, and snuggling silently. Although it is snow, it is not formed, and it will melt upon landing. The beauty of the first snow lies in the surprise brought by the first words. For example, at the beginning of life, love is cute at the beginning, because there are too many expectations and yearnings accumulated in it, which is often unforgettable and difficult to give up. Early snow is the symbol of winter. After the spring flowers and autumn moon, there is some hope for the solemn winter. And the first cold is also very cold. Although I have a hat, scarf and gloves, and tried hard to tighten my coat, it is still cold. I don’t know when it started, the fine snow particles turned into snowflakes flying all over the sky. Compared with rain, snow has a dignified lightness. Mao Pang in the Northern Song Dynasty wrote in his words: Butterfly first turned the curtain and embroidered, Wan Yu Nv, Qi Hui dance sleeves. It is probably the most spiritual expression of light snow flying. Quiet to a window of snow, it is easy to have a window of quiet mind, a curtain of flying intoxicated. I in 92 years of winter been to ice city Harbin, man tian xue dance in frozen snow of Songhua River see ice, sit horse-sled. Many years later, I remembered that I could still feel the cool touch when snowflakes flew down on my face. Snow is the winter spirit, which brings a pure and ethereal world with the figure of flowers and the posture of dancers. Snow is invisible but shapes the tangible world: snow flowers, snow trees, snow roads, snow bridges, snow mountains and rivers, snow Earth; Snow has no color, but it sets off all kinds of enchanting; Snow is silent, but pouring out thousands of feelings and thoughts. The first snow suddenly fell, and the autumn was too late to retreat. The poplars and weeping willows with green still exist, with thick snow, which are solemn and charming; The evergreen pine and cypress, without the awe-inspiring snow against the Green Pine, stretch their arms happily, welcome the falling snowflakes; Deep in the small garden, there are still late blooming flowers, showing a little bright red under the snow, which reminds people of the fairy tale of Snow White. It snowed for a long time, but it seemed that there was no tendency to stop. Soon a world wrapped in silver was created. This makes me yearn for the path of the Botanical Garden and the bamboo forest of the Purple Bamboo yard. Or you can walk leisurely to clear your heart, listen to the sound of snow and bamboo, see the flying flowers like dreams, and find a little old mood. But just thinking about it, I had no courage to walk in the snow in my heart. My son was busy outside early in the morning and didn’t come back until noon. Taking off the wet shoes, scarves and gloves, he excitedly told me how his snowmen attracted passers-by to watch, appreciated and even took photos. I saw the photo he took. The appearance of The Snowman looks like the monster in Altman’s story, with big LOVE written on his chest, It looks like a lovely monster. The heart of a young man, like the first snow, has not gone through the waste of time and the world of mortals, so it is particularly exquisite and clear, and happiness and sadness are also particularly pure and appealing. If possible, I don’t know how many people are willing to exchange the gains of this young man for the craziness. As the saying goes, there is no place to find old travel, no place to find, only young heart. I am extremely cold body, but love winter. Is winter a season to hide? You can dress fat and warm, walk in the cold winter wind, feel the beauty of withering in this silent season; Or sit in the sunny window in a tired afternoon, holding a cup of black tea, think of something tiredness on your mind. The sunshine in winter is the brightest and warmest one, and winter is also the most warm season that makes people yearn. Hearing the barking of dogs in the Chai men, people who come back at night in the snow and snow most often remind me of the warmth when I open the door. Should there be a burning fire? The first snow is thick, and winter is coming. What about you? Is there a place to warm your hands? Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. Maybe because of a certain commitment, or because of a certain… Be good at listening to different voices and opinions On October 6th, I published a travel essay: “beautiful autumn scenery”, which was obtained by many literary websites… Read The Bridges of Madison County “When the white moth spreads its wings, you can come to me at any time”. I think, if I am a man, be accepted… From today on, I want to be happy I read “the biography of Hulan River” long time ago, and I remember that I was really in a heavy mood for a long time. Which characters caused me… Sick time I sneezed one after another these days. I said someone was reading me and others said I was sick. Finally, the doctor also said I was…