Can anyone help write a slightly lighter essay

Sunrise. Pan Zhang Weihao.

This morning, I got up early in the morning to watch the sunrise. The sky was dark, and the surroundings were quiet and quiet, and there was no sound at all.

After a while, the sky began to turn from black to blue, and at first it was light blue, very shallow, very shallow. After a while, a red morning glow appeared in the sky, and the flowers and plants of the houses on the ground seemed to be smeared with rouge, with a faint flush. Gradually, the range became wider and wider, and the light became stronger and stronger.

I thought the sun was about to rise from there, and I couldn't take my eyes off it.

Sure enough, there appeared a small half of the sun, very red, but there was no light. The sun climbed upwards slowly, little by little, as if it were walking, until at last it broke through the clouds and revealed its face as red as a rose. In an instant, the crimson thing emitted a dazzling light that made it impossible for the human eye to look directly.

At the same time, it also gilded the clouds next to it with golden light. At this time, the trees and flowers on the ground began to wake up from their sleep, just like spring had arrived.

It's simply the golden paradise of life.

At the junction of the forest and the road, there is a haystack in the memory, and when it lies there, it is autumn a few years ago. The sky has always been pure blue, white clouds, like a ship in the sea, jolting into different curves. There is a sea of bamboo on the side of the road, and there is a clear sound from time to time, and the wind is moving.

I lie down for a long time, avoiding loneliness and feeling the joy of autumn. Birds chirp in the distance, insects crawl quietly over the grass, sunlight passes through the trees, and white clouds fly playfully in the blue sky. A petite chrysanthemum, fluttering in my hair.

The autumn breeze on the chrysanthemum rubbed my cheeks like a loved one, until my snort was just as peaceful. In a long sleep, I had a dream that I had grown up when I woke up.

It's a season of tranquility. Every day, I'm wandering around. Watch the orchard full of apples, watch the people in the fields busy harvesting, and watch the people in the park looking for lovers.

My mother prepared the meals for me, and my father was busy with his work. And every night, I can enjoy the cool air, enjoy the fragrant tea, and remember that when I looked up at the sky, my grandfather often stroked my head. When I didn't think I was happy enough, school went back and my friends got together.

So I was relieved and happy.

But the days will pass, even if they are as long as a season. Every year in the Mid-Autumn Festival, the whole family gets together and enjoys the moon very happily. After moving a few times, there are fewer people to admire the moon.

Every Mid-Autumn Festival I remember, I would get up early in the morning. Because the yard is full of flowers and leaves that I like, I'm going to clean them. It's also because I like the joy of festivals.

Until the weather gets colder and the rain comes again, there are so many fallen leaves that you can't sweep them away. The autumn rain hits countless leaves, like a melancholy melody. At this time, I only think of "when I cut the candles in the west window and talk about the night rain in Bashan".

Don't care how long the autumn is and how long it is.

This season is actually very short, admiring the moon, climbing mountains, and playing, as if a day has passed. When I leave home, I just change a few clothes quickly. In fact, every time I have nostalgia and regrets.

But every time, I would say to myself, "I'll be back, there's autumn next year." ”

In recent years, when autumn comes, I have to write an essay, as if I am confessing something, and after the confession, I put it in the corner of my memory. When I wrote this year, I was sad and happy. This joy came from strolling around the flower market the day before yesterday.

In the idle sunshine, I saw a lot of chrysanthemums, which were diverse and pleasant. I walked around like a child. Suddenly there was a feeling:

Ju's posture is reflected in the eyes, and it feels like the appearance of the Akihashi Bureau. Autumn's image is like this, isn't it? The faint sunlight diffused, stretched a lazy waist, woke up from an old dream, and bloomed its own spring.

Rain, wherever it rains, is always so clear; The sound of rain, no matter what time of year it is, is always so reverie. Sometimes, it's so cheerful that it beats a burst of laughter on the rubble.

Sometimes, it is so sad again, gently twisting a string of thoughts between the branches.

Last summer, I went to Beijing for a competition and stayed in a small hotel in the suburbs. At night, I lay down, the raindrops tapping on the window. I never thought that the rain in the north would be so frequent, and every evening, the wind swept the raindrops, and without warning began to swirl in the air with gusts of cool air, and the sound of rain sounded in the window.

Is this the hospitality of the northerners, or is it an attempt to evoke the nostalgia of strangers? I can't help but think of the dense sound of rain in the misty southern town.

Hometown rain is the most common, one is three or two days at a time, as if lovers are kissing the earth all the time. The sound of rain seems to be contaminated with people's feelings, continuous, tactful and melodious. When I was a child, I often lay on the windowsill, the misty rain curtain covered the world with a veil, the sound of rain through the rain curtain, as if there was a trace of mystery, I on the windowsill, listening to this distant nature, as if I saw countless rain on the leaves of the light shadow, natural **, to give the young heart how much fantasy ......

The rain rhyme of the hometown makes people think about it; And the raindrops in other places are so hurried. When I wanted to capture the soul of the sound of the rain in the north, I came back to my senses: the rain outside the window had stopped.

Without a trace of stinginess, this is the boldness of the northern boys? Yu Dafu said that the rain in the north seems to be more strange and flavorful, and my ears have conjured up the sheng Xiao after the rain in my hometown.

Quietly, it is the sheng xiao of parting, and tranquility is the charm of the hometown after the rain. The rain has stopped, but the rain is still there, the sound of the rain has stopped, but the melody is still there. It's not that the aftermath lingers, it's that the performance continues.

Listen: the water is advancing deeper into the crevices of the earth, every pore of the leaves is leisurely breathing water, and even the houses and paddy fields that are submerged in the fog seem to be playing the nostalgia of the wanderer As long as you listen attentively.

The sound of my hometown stretches endlessly, the moonlight outside the hotel window has spread, I am in a foreign land, but the strings in my heart are connected with the sound of rain in my hometown, every trembling, the familiar sound of heaven in the fog, all lead to my endless thoughts.