The leaves of autumn

Autumn in the south compared to the north, always feel a bit long. When the northerners prayed for spring in the biting wind of the Gone with, the south was in late autumn. Early in the morning we are always in the dim hear sanitation workers sweep the leaves of the voice, Shaivite Shaivite Rattle. With this gentle rhythm, we began a new day of life with a bright sun.

Walk on the path under the plane tree, you will find triumphantly sasa tens of thousands of pieces of fallen leaves in our sleeping night quietly for the big floor on a layer of golden blanket. Accompanied by a cool oblique wind, a piece of fallen leaves in the air have jumped up the cheerful Latin dance, as if can be meditation to enjoy the scenery of passers-by into the fairy-tale world. Children run in the leaves, play, enjoy a happy childhood, the old man walking in the wind, experience the wonderful Life, and young people, or rushed through, to fight for every minute of work time, or under the tree, railing overlooking, sigh the vicissitudes of life, express the feelings of the hard-working feeling or pull the couple's hand, intoxicated in this romantic atmosphere.

In contrast, the northern hometown of the leaves are more restrained, dew season, the leaves immediately behave to yellow, fall off, the wind will be their vitality mercilessly take away, clear frost in their landing but not also covered, frozen. But to see the fall of my hometown, the autumn in the south gave me a feeling of uneasiness. Nearly New Year's day, leaves are still falling, other plants are still lush, without losing the vitality of spring and summer. At this moment, it should be the time of all things hibernate, where all kinds of birds are still flying happily.

I think the wanderer is that wandering leaves, no matter how far to fly, no matter what experience, they will always return to their homeland. For the earth full of clothes, for the spring flowers Zhengyan to provide adequate nutrients. Like the leaves of the north, they do not want to be in the wind, only willing to become spring mud more protective flowers.
At this time Vitas a poetic song echoed in my ear:

Leaves, is not the wings to fly;
Wings, is the leaves falling in heaven;
Heaven, the original should not be delusional.
But I've forgotten,
How to start flying.

Lonely, is a person's carnival;
Carnival, is a group of people's loneliness;
Love, the original beginning is the company.
But I also gradually forget,
How was the company at that time.

I eat, travel, walk and stop alone,
Also a person reads a book, writes a letter,

Talk to yourself. It's just where the heart floats,
I can't even see myself.

I think I'm not just losing you.
~ The leaves of autumn

2011-10-01

The leaves of autumn