The past trend of thought

Autumn quietly came, and will quietly away. The past trend of thought, still rippling in the autumn when the scenery, the passing of the hot summer, the scorching sun has gone away, in the blink of an eye, the sun from a man of blood, into a warm eyes of the amiable old man, tolerant and benevolent looking down at everything in front of him.

Under the sun, the field edge, the wild yellow chrysanthemum of the flower bud, voluntarily act as the messenger of autumn, although there is no care of the flower people, there is no achievement of "the city with the golden flower" spectacular, the wild chrysanthemum still open not humble, calmly bloom a lifetime of golden, blossoming connected, spread a slope of brilliant dazzling gold satin. Small bridge, the big plane tree is not idle, palm big yellow leaves through the gust of autumn wind, spinning, slowly falling, like in the aftertaste of the summer under the tree, that one interesting story. The leaves on the ground withered into a roll, inadvertently collected a lost season of the past.

In the autumn sun in the afternoon, cicadas still sing leisurely on the poplar trees whose branches and leaves have been scattered, but they no longer have the noise of summer. Autumn cicada has always been a symbol of desolation, when the first breath of autumn wind rises, his life is announced to enter the countdown, the low octave singing is not its heart pale and weak confusion, helpless singing is filled with another kind of life indication, like an old man who has experienced vicissitudes of life, no longer partners with vanity, the once noisy and restless has melted into a quiet and calm. You don't have to talk or scream to prove anything to the world. Autumn cicada, it is the wise man who realizes the indifference of autumn, quietly enjoying the last gift given by life when the wind is light and the clouds are light.

Empty blue sky, a few leisurely clouds, blue gorgeous. Everything is so comfortable and wonderful, every creature, in this last bustling season, enjoy their own autumn whispers.

In fact, autumn is not bleak.

This season can not say what season, anyway, the weather is changeable! It's hard to figure out, it's hard to understand.

This consecutive days of cloudy, rainy days is pressing my irritable and restless heart, a little angry, and a little sad. Gray, that's all I can say about the sky. Cold brush. That's all I have to say about the rain. Holding an umbrella, wandering again and again in this seven-minute journey, it seems that I feel: the tense and orderly course pressure me out of breath. Let me be like a moving surperman general, can not give up easily can not be depressed, because I carry not only my own expectations! It is the encouragement of teachers, parents and students! Sitting in the classroom, looking out the window under the mess of the rain, the ear is vaguely discernable is the so-called profound Pythagorean theorem. The blackboard was left with the teacher's doodles and even more inexplicable symbols. I startled to see startled, a small fire burning from the heart but was immediately poured out of the window of the rain an inch not to leave. I have to say that I hate rainy days, maybe I don't know how to poetic. I did not have Dai Wangshu like the tender feelings of sadness, there is no that holding the oil-paper umbrella of the young waiting for me, more did not smell the fragrance of lilac flowers! I'm just a student, an ordinary student who can't be in the ordinary, what I have to do every day is not to write poems, wander, grieve and all sorts of things. Walking on a rainy day, looking for the kind of hope that is sometimes lost, but bitterly disappointed. In fact, I can't find any beauty, instead I just feel wet! Rain gradually fell the curtain, looking at the gray sky, thoughts floating in every corner of the campus, continuous.