A photo of autumn leaves in Beifang Zhang. Use your imagination and write 200 words.

When persimmon leaves and Sophora japonica leaves fall, Qiu Shu in Beijing will wither one after another. On the road, in the park, the fallen leaves are rustling underground, as dense as rain and as dense as snow.

Nature is dying, striving for self-improvement in the sorrow of death. Walking in the rain of fallen leaves, you will be shocked by the eternal calendar of the universe. As a result, the gloomy mood that just rose from the chest was quickly expelled by the feeling of falling leaves. The leaves floating above your head are colorful, and only autumn leaves in the north have such bright colors. Crimson, princess red, gold, cyan, orange or a mixture of red and yellow ... all withered colors are unique to autumn fruits, and the same leaf will show various colors. On the wide roads in Beijing, street trees are made up of many kinds of trees. When the fallen leaves fall, the streets are dotted with beautiful small color blocks of various shapes. The atmosphere was quiet and lively, and the thick autumn of Beijing suddenly appeared. Without the embellishment of these small color blocks, the late autumn in the north may be unremarkable. In Beijing, I live in the east, and Jintai Road is covered with golden and transparent ginkgo leaves, which look like handfuls of small sectors, so cute that people can't bear to step on them; Occasionally, the leaves of sapium sebiferum and poplar trees flash out other striking color blocks in the golden yellow of the ground. On the sidewalk facing the street, the rain of Sophora japonica leaves and elm leaves fell one after another. No matter how those little leaves fell to the ground, they all looked natural and appropriate. Their light colors and instant impressions are enough to constitute impressionist masterpieces. In my eyes, the scenery of fallen leaves in the capital is more charming and artistic than the millions of pots of flowers that decorated the streets in the early days. Every time the sweeper passes by, the streets are bare, showing a bleak scene in late autumn. I think the sweeper is really cruel. It treats beautiful fallen leaves as garbage, which is a bit inhuman.

However, the fallen leaves are still rustling underground. Those leaves, like birds covered with crowns, were disturbed by a gust of wind and flew away from the branches. It's just that flying birds are not as serene and complacent as they are. My sensitive heart heard their chirping-the fallen leaves are telling the joy of flying. It is not so much flying as dancing, sometimes shaking excitedly in the air and sometimes swaying leisurely. They have gained the long-awaited freedom, as if they have been waiting on the branches so far, but they have done some duty, and their color is the reward paid by nature. Now, when the sap is about to stop moving, they are free to do something. So they kissed the cheeks and skirts of pedestrians and decorated the earth. When the autumn wind rises again, they dance from the ground in the same rhythm, fluttering lightly, regardless of what the best moment in life means. They are about to turn into dust and mud. Even if there is no wind, the leaves will fall straight from the sky, like a quiet fruit, showing a thoughtful state of mind and transcendental solemnity. Since there is no wind, what force makes them fall? Is it your own will? I stared at the quietly falling leaves and drifted off. Several children were picking up fallen leaves, so I couldn't help picking up a few pieces. The petiole is soft and blue, and the changed leaves are still bright and moist, with clear veins and full juice. This is a living leaf, it's just whispering to you. It chose the best moment of its life to bid farewell to the world, and even the plants in the world don't want to die ugly.

As a result, even many green leaves were infected and left the branches one after another to join similar rhythmic dances. To my surprise, in an empty shady park in the eastern suburbs, weeping willows are still swaying by the pool, but the ground has been covered with a layer of green leaves, like green snow. This is beyond my understanding of natural phenomena. Is this a shocking move made by nature on purpose? That's the broad leaves of poplar. I stood on the thick piled leaves and looked up at the poplar tree: the leaves with full crowns rustled in the wind, revealing a deep emerald green. Poplar began to wither a long time ago, but its leaves will persist until the end, just like the patron saint of autumn. Only when all the trees become bare will the last leaves wither, which is also green. Poplar trees dyed the space in late autumn green. The great northern man not only followed the ruthless time sequence, but also stubbornly cherished the emerald color of life, thus creating wonders. A southern girl dressed in bright red, holding a bunch of poplar leaves, took pictures in the green whirlpool of the wind, leaving this unique memory of autumn. This is indeed a Zhang Fuyou-style photo, and it is only in the northland that there is such autumn; In the north, there are no withered leaves.

Now, the deciduous trees in the north have withered, but the beauty of autumn leaves and the affection I have experienced make me not sad about its withering, even the cold in autumn in the north has been diluted. Perhaps it is because the autumn in the north is cold, so there is a thick autumn feeling composed of fallen leaves. In the warm and humid south of the Yangtze River where I have lived for a long time, the withered leaves will spread in autumn and winter, showing a reluctant situation, so there is no dense and rainy scene, most of them are dead leaves, and the color is far less gorgeous than that in the north. Moreover, there are always some leaves that depend on some magical reason. When they are dry, they will hang on bare branches, and the new green sprouting under the petiole in spring will be removed. A few dead leaves vividly depict a cold landscape in autumn and winter.

I love autumn leaves more than the new green in early spring.

I prefer autumn in the north to autumn in the south.