The autumn wind is bleak like a dryer, drying the crops in the field. The autumn rains that come as promised bring the coolness of autumn.
Thousands of mountains and valleys seemed to be agreed upon, revealing the most beautiful Wuhua Mountain color combination. Looking up is the scenery, looking down is the painting, and the feeling of spring and autumn fruits arises naturally.
The mountains in the distance are dyed with forests, maple leaves are like fire lit up people's way out, poplar leaves like cotton treading under your feet is extremely soft, only the green pine still remains green, like guards guarding the land under your feet.
The nearby river has long since faded the surging of summer. I quietly caress the river and recall the little things back then.
On the boundless field, the wind blows through the rice waves, like the endless sea. Occasionally, some harvest cars dotted it, more like a ship in the sea. The yellow corn dances in the wind, like people showing his achievements. sorghum also blushed and dances in the wind, swearing to compete with corn. In the farmhouse, the green cabbage, the watery radish , and the red persimmons are all happy, rushing to tell people the joy of harvest.
The flowers are gone in late autumn, and looking back is like a dream, the stars are changing, cold dew lightly, countless flowers and willows are gone, and the fragrance of jade is gone. Only the chrysanthemums are still a touch of embellishment with the north wind blowing the grass on the ground. "It's not that the flowers prefer chrysanthemums, and there are no flowers when they bloom." Perhaps this was also a kind of helplessness back then.
Since ancient times, autumn has been sad and lonely. I say that autumn is better than spring. Autumn is harvest, storage, and hope. Autumn is like a jar of old wine, which makes people intoxicated and do not know the way home.
