When the last summer breeze turns away with its swelter,autumn arrives quietly carrying a paintbox.It is not a single shade of gold,but blends orange-red into deep green.
Rice fields surge with golden waves in twilight,scarecrows stand as eternal sentinels.Sunset dyes the sky honey-colored,even kitchen smoke carries caramel sweetness。
Osmanthus fragrance is autumn's secret message,climbing windowsills by moonlight,sowing drowsy yearnings beside pillows.Persimmon trees hang lanterns on branches,illuminating squirrels' secret paths for storing nuts.
Autumn rain taps wutong leaves, like countless fingers playing an ancient zither. Fallen leaves spread as carpets, making every step tread on crisp rhymes. Crickets lower their melodies.
Wind passes through the orchard, plucking apples'blush and pears' yellow. Farmers'laughter falls into bamboo baskets,heavy with fruits.The distant cornfield rustles.
Migratory birds write migration poems in the sky,each stroke pointing to warm distances.Old trees shake off the last leaf,revealing sturdy branches,learning to face the sky openly before cold winds arrive.