How to write an autumn scene essay, and what are the essays that describe the autumn scene?

The sky, paved with the breath of desolation, flows in the lonely years, simply interprets the laughter of growth, dao that belongs to the most beautiful color in our lives through the experience of morning dew and forms the dust of the four seasons, soaked in the past of many years.

The majestic time, through the vastness of memory, fills every corner of the soul with the story, turning it into a unique and gorgeous scenery, wantonly graffiti on the script of youth. At that moment, the dream was sublimated by reality, transcending this noisy world, and spreading the fragrant fragrance of three thousand miles in all poetic and flexible moments.

I don't know if this feeling is real, but maybe, when I wake up from the dream, I will remember, remember the times I had, and remember the faces I had met before. I just don't know if my tired soul will get a moment of rest when the fragrant fireflies bloom into a dreamy shadow, as quiet and comfortable as the sea.

The wind of memory, tearing the notes of modernity, is swift in the ears, forming a broken ballad, and finally covering the past. And I still like to wander in the sea of people and watch the white clouds in the sky, but every time I read it, I will feel inexplicably confused, and I feel like a delicate dandelion, which will be carried away by the gust of wind anytime and anywhere.

Perhaps, the tense and fast pace of life every day has already overwhelmed itself, the darkness in reality, the helplessness in life, makes the numb heart more and more old, and the memory is getting darker and darker. I really want to go back to the good old days, even if it's a moment in my dreams, at least so that I can relive the memories of the past that have settled in the depths of my heart, and then quietly release it in reality.

In fact, I have always been very grateful to the friends who have walked with me over the years, although the waves of time have rushed each other to the distance of memory, but the thoughts left have never stopped, I really miss you, but time can no longer find the clues when I go back.

The floating leaves, caressing the face of the years, remembering the past, the encounter was missed, the missed was forgotten, and the forgotten was remembered, it was very contradictory, and we were in such a cycle, going around and around with the white boy's head.

I also know that reality has never changed, and it is only life and noodles that are busy.

I have always loved autumn, its tepidness, its tranquility, its meticulousness.

The autumn wind rises, the river ripples, and the yellow fallen leaves sway down one by one.

The autumn rain continues, and the colorful umbrellas form a flowing ink painting.

The countryside fields are spectacular, with long sleeves of bread poles dancing in the wind to celebrate this year's harvest.

The red apples were waiting on the branches, and the aunt who picked the fruit looked at the huge apples and smiled.

Take a handful from the pond to cool off.

A mellow scent from the orchard.

Autumn is coming, singing a golden song.

Come to the city, come to the village.

There is no pride in the spring breeze willows.

There is no sorrow that is falling red.

There is no frenzy like the blazing sun.

There is no frost and snow cold.

You sing about the hardships and bitterness of the journey.

But there was no disappointment and no sadness.

You sing the joy and satisfaction of the autumn harvest.

But there is no conceit and arrogance.

Ah, in the face of yellow flowers everywhere.

The garden is full of cinnamon, and the autumn breeze is ah.

I want to sing with you.

Maple Leaf's sigh.

In the embrace of two rains.

It's getting deeper. A late night.

Bai Lu held Luo Ying.

Quietly coming. Wood carvings on cliffs.

Hide under the fragments of midsummer.

Say goodbye to the waves.

Geese flew by.

There was one lying in front of the door.

Blocked by the years.

Crippled river. The scent of pine flowers in September.

was married home by the old wooden window.

Autumn Moon! Who can afford to have silver fingertips.

Romantically scratch and crawl!

If you don't believe it, but look at the light waves of the sea, you can't help it.

The caress of the jade fingers.

Hang down there and weep!

That's it: the boring clouds and smoke, the happiness of the autumn moon, warmed the cold eyes of the drifting heart, and also coldly put on light clothes to participate in this.

Happy marriages and funerals.

Hurry! Rush Urge!

A cigarette, a mountain, a few clouds, a water, a bridge, a oar, a pine, a bamboo, red leaves

The bright fields, the bright autumn scenes, the dream-like distinct, blurred, fading,—— urging urging! Is it the wheel or the time?

Promotes the old Qiu Rong, and promotes the old life!

My favorite autumn is colorful. There is a drizzle, there are autumn leaves, and there is a hazy fantasy in the fog. As the saying goes:

A leaf knows autumn. Indeed, when autumn comes, the fruit is ripe, the leaves are yellow, and the grass is withered. Autumn is a colorful world, purple and red, thousands of miles of bright colors!

At that time, the persimmon was like a girl's face blushing, and the earth was dressed in a new way. When the sun comes out, everywhere is crystal clear, sparkling, and shining! When a breeze blows, how can it be cool, isn't it?

The autumn breeze is a treat. When the fog slowly disperses, thousands of miles are colorful, thousands of miles are floating! The whole view is more than enough for you to enjoy.

When it comes to autumn, it is inevitable that it will feel a little bleak. All things show their color, but eventually they will wither. This is the law of nature.

Only when the remnants are removed will there be a new life in spring. is like the poem of Bai Juyi in the Sui and Tang Dynasties, "Wildfires cannot be burned out, and the spring breeze blows and grows". Rong is desolate, just like the ancient grass is also weeping and weeping for his parting with his friends.

Another example is Wang Wei's "Memories of Shandong Brothers on September 9th" Alone in a different place, he thinks of his relatives every festive season. The remote knowledge brothers ascended to the heights, and there was one less person in the dogwood. The longing for relatives and friends in my hometown is spontaneously born in this golden autumn festival.

How much love is born in autumn, and how many scenes make many people sad! "The yellow ground grinding imitation flowers are piled up, haggard and damaged, who can pick them today! ”

But then again, borrowing scenery makes love, but it depends on a person's state of mind. Tao Yuanming is different. "Picking chrysanthemums under the east fence, leisurely see Nanshan.

It was also autumn, but he came to pick chrysanthemums, enjoy autumn or have a drink. Looking at Nanshan and watching the birds return to their nests at dusk, this kind of tranquil and otherworldly is indeed a realm.

Autumn is so incomprehensible, there is sadness in beauty.