Prose about autumn

Prose is a narrative literary genre, which expresses the author's true feelings and flexible writing style. The following is my essay about autumn, welcome to read for reference!

A note on autumn prose: This is a QQ space log I wrote at the end of my two-year business trip. There's still some motivation to check it again

Time flies, it has been almost two years in a blink of an eye, and the two years have not given us anything, except to carve the mark of time on our faces, but to give us too much emotion. I used to be like Meng Xiaojun, eager to change the world, but in the end I was silently changed by the world in the passage of time.

I am a literary youth. I like to pretend to be a literary youth, or I like to be called a literary youth. Perhaps this is the common ground of every literary youth. I still remember writing a reliable article when I first entered the company. At that time, many people regarded me as a reliable brother. At that time, everything was so beautiful. Two years have passed, and I have experienced too much and learned too much. Two years let me gradually understand life: hard-won, work: down-to-earth, feelings: there are old people at home.

Regarding feelings, one thing that happened in the past two years made me really realize that the old people at home are really old, and it is really time for us to shoulder this responsibility. In the past two years, I have also made a phone call for more than ten minutes every week; Up to now, a phone call has been made every two days, and a phone call has been at least 40 minutes. I began to like chatting with the old people at home and talking about my ideas and plans with them. I'm beginning to understand that the old people don't want us to be good, just want us to be healthy outside and not hungry. As for feelings, I just hope that the old people are all well, try to be less busy with farm work and eat more fruits.

As for work, my two-year business trip experience has made me understand that for an expatriate in a foreign country, an illusory sense of accomplishment and a so-called sense of belonging are important and desirable. It's been two years, and I'm glad I still have that affirmed persistence and enthusiasm for work. In the past two years, I have been wandering and disappointed; I have been looking forward to the arrival of today, looking forward to venting the feelings accumulated in my heart over the past two years. Two years, but I'm ambivalent. I made a choice between two little people in my heart. I'm worried about what I don't know when I get back. I also regret giving up what I have now. In this way, I made a choice and hesitated. And when I often sleep at night, the duel between two little people in my mind makes me gradually understand that work is actually down-to-earth and hard work; Work is actually: no matter what you do, you should try your best to do it well. Perhaps this is the case, in the warm breeze, carrying things on the bus.

About life, we are still young and don't want to say too much. We just hope that everything will go well in the future. I hope my relatives have a good time and eat more fruits. I hope my friend has a bright future and a happy family.

I don't know when I began to like to sum up the past from three aspects: feelings, work and life. Perhaps I once said that everyone has emotions suitable for this stage at every stage, and so does the summary.

In autumn, I thank my relatives and friends who have been supporting me for the past two years to lead my colleagues. Thank you! Finally, a word for you: Did we change the world, or did the world change you and me?

Autumn-themed prose is an independent high-rise building, where Wangjiang flows, a few ships enter the eye and the waves open; When the sun sets, thousands of rivers in Anh Hong can't help feeling sad. Such a scene can only be seen in ancient autumn, but in reality it is just a dream. In that fleeting time, we grew up and paid various prices for it, leaving too many regrets.

Three years ago in the autumn, we met and brought sadness. We are running on the playground, you are eager to catch up with me, the teacher is wandering on the beach in the distance, and friends of three years won't haggle over every ounce. There are joys and sorrows, there are joys and sorrows This warm aftertaste is endless. Although sentimental at that time, it came and went quickly. That scene is just the beginning of long grass and the beginning of our youth.

Three years later, in the autumn, although we know each other, there is no banquet that never ends. Once happiness vanished, but that memory was deeply buried in my heart. Want to recall the past in any way, have nothing to say or be silent for a long time.

I once imagined that we walked into the maple forest together, and the maple leaves around us danced like elves and lingered around us. Everything is red, looking up at the blue sky, walking into the dreamy autumn, remembering the moment when we met, but it is like a meteor passing by and instantly embellishing. Once upon a time, we worried about our grades together and reveled in the game together; Sing together "People who don't know but don't care are not gentlemen." Be glib in front of the teacher together; Play it by ear in front of the headmaster, just to apply for the phrase "share weal and woe"

And our teachers, who teach us, teach us the methods of learning knowledge and the principles of being a man and doing things. They are "candles will drain the wick every night, and silkworms in spring will weave until they die." Our selfless dedication has accompanied us for three years, and how can we compare it with the three years together? Just like our math teacher is usually very strict, but his eyes are reluctant to part when we break up, and our expectations are unforgettable when we leave.

Youth in reality, fluttering in dreams. A few messages on the internet can make me moved by that scene, even imagine that we are walking on both sides of the street in autumn, looking at each other, but we are strangers. Who can go back to that fleeting time?

They all chose the simplest way to recall the past-silence. But time can't go back, youth is still there. I thank you for your existence. You proved that I have my own world, and I also left memories. Why don't we set sail again with this memory and continue to complete the beauty of youth?

Nothing is calmer than autumn. Autumn water is getting cold. I reach for water to wash my face, but I haven't washed my face yet. The water temperature passed through the skin of my hand and I suddenly woke up. A cool breeze blew in through the open window, and it suddenly cooled down.

It's cold in the autumn morning.

The rain the other day washed the sky very clean. Going downstairs, the trees showed no signs of destruction and were lush. This road extends in all directions. White clouds also gather in a pile, quietly basking in the sun. Occasionally, vehicles pass by, and the sound of rubber rubbing the asphalt road tears and is somewhat tangled.

After coming back from the seaside, my heart suddenly opened, like a pair of hands helped me open the window of my heart.

Suddenly, I knew what I wanted. The first thing I want to do is to give up.

Give up the life that is not worth accompanying and start a new journey.

The state of helplessness, depression, boredom and even humiliation is unbearable. Of course, everyone has such days in his life. It's not that others are not doing well, but that what they want is not on the same road as others. Looking for a job is like looking for a wife. After getting along, you will always find that the facts are quite different from the original. Originally, finding a wife was full of uncertainty, which was like gambling. It's luck, is it true? The answer is alwaysno. In marriage or work, there is no right or wrong, just adapting to each other. If you are a person without ambition and pursuit, maybe adaptability will help you enter a relatively stable state and enjoy it.

For those restless people, it is incredible to hold on to life once they meet.

We should not say that they are fickle, but that they constantly improve themselves in the process of growing up. So there is a gap between the initial cognition and the later cognition of one thing. Perhaps it is a little difference that makes him have the impulse to deviate; What's more, he revised his walking direction again in the process of growing up. It would be nice if this matter changed with it. He is not a person who likes to abandon warmth. He even likes to miss the past more than more people. However, like the characteristics of most things, the changes of things and people's hearts are always out of sync.

Therefore, such people are more vulnerable to painful care than others. He doesn't like pain so much, but between giving up and starting over. Pain likes to hide in such a place.

Starting over will make people produce new and more hormones, and it will also make people full of strength and longing because of the strangeness, unknown factors and possible beauty brought by new things.

Starting over also means creating and innovating. A new road will always give people infinite beautiful imagination, although in fact all roads are equal in beauty and frustration. Where there are flowers, there will be sand and insects.

Autumn is calm anyway. In many landscape photography, autumn is calm, whether it is landscape or portrait. Waiting for the harvest, but also ushered in death, this natural law can not be stopped by anyone. Fully enjoying the quiet moments in the process of acceptance is itself a beautiful part.

Autumn Essay IV In the imprint of autumn, moonlight is my most unforgettable.

As night falls, the moon rises. How many times have I seen it: the moonlight pours like water on high peaks, sparse tree shadows, empty vilen, once low bungalows and fences, on windowsills, and finally quietly pours on my heart.

The moonlight in autumn always gives people a quiet feeling, as if it were like a timid child ready to slip away anytime and anywhere. Especially the full moon in Mid-Autumn Festival, it always flies in the autumn sky, walking so fast and so quietly. I can only wait until the Mid-Autumn Festival next year when I want to watch it again.

But I don't like the bitterness of waiting. Whether it is round, disabled, bright or pale, I just sit quietly in the moonlight, let it hang high in the sky, free, and put a layer of bright Yin Hui beside me. And I just sat quietly in the moonlight, quietly thinking about those closest to me, recalling my past and vicissitudes.

Sitting for a long time, thinking for a long time, a melancholy loneliness, like weeds, quietly climbed over his melancholy heart. However, the moon doesn't seem to understand this. It just hangs quietly in the sky, looking at me silently, adding a touch of melancholy loneliness and faint disappointment to my heart. Only when the refreshing autumn wind blows, the leaves of the trunk are mottled with a little moon shadow, which brings me some blurred and swaying silver light, I realize that the moonlight has been by my side, watching me silently and accompanying me gently.

At this time, I always sit silently in the moonlight and can't bear to leave for a long time. In this quiet and gentle night, perhaps only moonlight is my only companion. Just like when I was a child, ten years of political struggle made my family uneasy. My parents were put in the bullpen, and those friends who were close to me kept themselves away from the plague. The young heart, full of grievances and resentment, hides alone under the faint mountain, letting the revolutionary slogan in the loudspeaker cut through the lonely night sky. The moon seems to understand my heart and gently soothe my broken heart with its gentle silver light; And in the corner of my eye, I was in tears. In the late autumn night, I slept peacefully in the quiet moonlight.

……

No dreams tonight, the moonlight is still so bright.

I walked quietly in the moonlight in Shan Ye, stepping on soft fallen leaves and listening to the rustling sound under my feet. I am walking, and the moonlight is walking; In the gap between the branches and leaves of the forest, it accompanied me, sometimes appeared in front of my eyes, and sometimes slipped away from the grass at my feet. It slid across the dam of the reservoir and into the misty water waves, as if I could touch it with my hands. However, when I really want to touch it, I can only be in a silver wave. At this point, I can't tell whether this is a dream or a fairyland. Or did those disturbed waterfowl sing and fly and wake me up at once?

It seems that I had another wonderful childhood dream.

……

Looking up at the night sky, a bright moon hangs high, like jade as a mirror, like a dream, like a beautiful poem, like a soft song; But I poured out all my kind words, but I still didn't praise them; Finally, I can only let a warm and sweet comfort come to my mind.

Autumn is the theme of prose. Trees shed their leaves in May and accumulate strength in winter. In spring, it remains beautiful, while in summer it remains beautiful. ...

Going to Qiu Lai in spring is a change of seasons, and the blooming and falling of flowers is an alternation of time. The past is a beautiful flower and a beautiful shadow, and leaves are the reincarnation of the fate of trees! Flowers wither and leave seeds, which take root and sprout in the heart. What year will the result be? But it is a fruitless tree in itself, and I still water it with blood and tears until I sleep with it without blood and tears!

Seasons touch the fallen leaves and let them drift secretly. Every fluctuation is parting. Every leaf leaves, it can't see the future, but it can't go back to the past, countless far and near, and it can't see the truth. How to cut it depends on the season.

The scenery of fallen leaves is the most primitive spiritual scenery. Time is hard to spare, and the leaves will dance with the breeze, seemingly free. In fact, there are many hard-to-decide ideas hidden. A leaf seems simple, but it is inextricably linked, and there is always a determination that cannot be easily put down!

The autumn wind has erased the colorful trees, autumn has gone, and winter is cold! I'm afraid it's this faint pain in our hearts that fascinates us!

The life of fallen leaves is full of regrets, and I didn't have a chance to revise it at the end of winter. On this cold winter night, I can't hear the moans of fallen leaves, and the scars in my heart are attributed to a whistling wind.

This tree has been crying for a year. In order to sacrifice the beauty of summer, it is used to covering up its inner sadness because of the fake smile of the wind. Finally in autumn, it went to a place with no future!

I always inadvertently think and recall, thinking that when the autumn wind comes, it is the reincarnation of fallen leaves, right? The leaves of happiness have left me, right?

Autumn wind has come, and fallen leaves come and go in one's world, one's loneliness, one's ethereal spirit and one's wonderful life, right?

Maybe I still care so much about the memories alone, thinking, will parting and reunion last forever? Maybe in the cycle of falling leaves in autumn!

Editorial theory

The autumn wind is too cruel! Destroyed my dream; Ruined my love. I want to curse, curse the autumn wind. However, does the curse work? Will heaven hear my curse?

I can't let fate play tricks on me like this! I want to pick up the hope that fell to the ground, connect it with my nerves, weave a beautiful scenery and give it to my love and mine.

Life, smile at the rising sun every day!

The six windows of autumn theme prose are clear, and it's still raining inside. Just because I smile doesn't mean I am happy. I hold an umbrella, not just for shelter from the rain.

That autumn, vaguely, seems far away. Then why can I still feel the cold autumn rain? Ye Er hugged each other, and I walked barefoot in the field. People who are more poetic than me will look back and enjoy the baptism of autumn rain. At that time, I was not a big boy. Like many children, I like rain. The harder it rains, the more I cry, and the more I want to go out. Just because I like it, I want to be natural and let the autumn rain fall. You don't have to face it, just let it flow out of your hair and finish its life.

I really want to go back to that village where the autumn rain is continuous. That's where my life really began.

Autumn, I like it. Although our family has no fields in the village, I always go to the fields during the autumn harvest. Grandma said I must be a farmer when I grow up-according to her simple inference, maybe this is an answer. But when I went to the fields, I just looked at the farmers' faces during the harvest season. How can I describe it without nutrition? It's an expression that can't be seen in books and oil paintings. The simple face is full of satisfaction and excitement. This autumn is full-I like it.

But that day, the cart took everything from my family, and also took me and my family.

That autumn, I had no reason not to like it, but I really didn't like it. The city is bustling, brightly lit and raining all night. It's just that I need to be "armed to the teeth", with a big umbrella and rain boots from a few years ago, and walk uncomfortably in the street. I just thought of "sameness". In the city, I am not relaxed. When I look at autumn leaves, if I find them unusually prosperous and natural, I suspect that they are "fake" clones. So, although I smile, I am not happy. I hold an umbrella, not just for shelter from the rain.

It's sunny outside the window, I tell myself-it's still that autumn. But the sound of ticking makes me have to admit that it is still raining inside. "Should I take an umbrella?" I thought, forget it, so I smiled again-paradoxically sandwiched between like and dislike, which can only be interpreted by Rice's words.

Some people say autumn is golden, some people say autumn is yellow, others say autumn is red … I say autumn is colorful.

Autumn is red. That maple leaf, like a burning flame, is dancing gently in the autumn wind like a few small red fans. In our country, the maple leaves in Xiangshan are well known. Every autumn, red maple leaves hang on trees, like beautiful azaleas blooming on hills. It can really be said that it is late to stop and sit in the maple forest, and the frost leaves are redder than the February flowers.

Autumn is golden. Look, the golden ears of wheat are swaying gently in the autumn wind, as if to say: Ah, autumn is really beautiful! In the distance, the farmer's uncle is waving a sickle and cutting off golden ears of wheat. Looking at the endless golden wheat fields, a happy smile appeared on his face.

Autumn is yellow. One corn cob on the ground, like a room full of gold, round and round, how lovely! Corn is not only lovely, but also delicious and has high nutritional value. There is a riddle about corn: an old man with a long beard on his head pulled out his long beard and revealed yellow beads.

Autumn is blue. The blue sky, like a huge sapphire, is like a dream. A flock of geese spread their wings and set off the sky so beautifully. The geese flying south are the most beautiful decoration in the sky. A breeze reminds me of a song: sky, blue sky, endless wind … In autumn, looking up at the blue sky will make you fascinated.

Autumn is pink. In the flower beds on campus, pink September chrysanthemums are in full bloom, which is very beautiful! It is the messenger and spirit of autumn. Many poets have written many poems praising chrysanthemums, such as Yuan Zhen's poem "Chrysanthemum": It is not that chrysanthemums are favored among flowers, but that this flower is more barren.

Autumn is white. On the morning of late autumn, the frost on the fallen leaves is as pure as snowflakes and turns into dreamlike beauty.

Flowers are colorless, leaves are fluttering, and romantic scenery is not beautiful, only autumn attracts attention. What picturesque scenery, what colorful autumn.

This is a season worth remembering, a season worth remembering. Perhaps only at this time can we stand in the vast Yuan Ye and ask softly, "Where are you?" A gentle call, like a shadow fluttering in the wind, echoed in the sky. Aren't you an angel? Where is Qiu? Where can I find him? Only returning to Yuanye is the best choice.

The ideological trend is surging. A series of questions breed in my heart. What's wrong with this autumn? Do you still need to find it? "Maybe only in this way can we hear the sound of autumn. I am silently watching this field, watching this feeling. Golden Yuan Ye, can we still keep our footprints? The seeds of hope have been sown and the harvest is about to be completed. Actually, I don't need too much hope. I can only have a piece of green Yuan Ye, but I won't give up harvesting full autumn ears.

Autumn is crisp, sickle and ear of grain are the theme of the development of Chinese civilization for five thousand years after all. It symbolizes the shadow of slash-and-burn social culture. Flowers bloom very fragrant, flowers fall very silently, and always give us more meditation in the silent season. Harvest is the characteristic of autumn, and the author regards the sickle as a symbol of autumn, which has profound implications. "The sickle goes to the blue place", which is a gradual process. Summer is slowly putting away its arrogance and autumn is slowly opening up. Autumn insects sing in a low voice. Who is holding his arm and bared his teeth?

It looks like a cricket in the wind. Time flies and times change. Last year, the peach blossoms were red and the willows danced. Here, you have experienced the past. A simple dress tells the story of a young man. This land is the foundation of the author's existence, and this land has nurtured her growth. Homesickness breeds in her heart, and the familiar soil carries the fragrance of the soil. She crawled and bowed her head, listening to the long-lost whispers, and there was always a pain in her heart. The pain that permeates the whole body slightly is an emotional shock, a whisper and a passion.

The theme of meditation hangs on the autumn night, and the full moon or crescent moon makes us naturally enter a role of meditation. Facing this moonlight, we look forward to pinning our thoughts or feelings on the bright moon, so that we can have the poetry and literary talent written by literati and poets in different times. This feeling is particularly prominent for people who are far away from home. Although I speak the same night sky, the same moonlight and even the standard language of a foreign land, I still have the most primitive local accent in my bones, which may be the homesickness of human beings. Many times, we have no choice but to live such a parting life, but how many things in life are under our control. Being speechless in autumn does not mean that we are silent, but that we meditate in silence and get some lessons or inspirations from meditation, because life is spent in the ups and downs of constant failure and success.