1. The rain gradually stopped, the clouds gradually dispersed, and a few cold beads of rain blurred my eyes. It seems that there are other things besides everything in front of me. A leaf fell in front of my eyes? I picked it up and put it in its real home-dirt. "Falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning into spring mud protects flowers more." Think of it as my hope for spring.

2. The leaves have fallen and the flowers have withered. They can be regenerated next year, and they will be more beautiful. Can those who are dying stay? Sometimes, I really love the fallen leaves, love that they come and go smartly, and don't leave a trace of mourning on earth; Love its tolerance, its ordinary but not mediocre attitude towards life; Love its eyes looking far away and its smile returning to the earth.

3. In late autumn, I drove through the suburban forest path, and the fallen leaves fluttered in the air, hovering several times, nostalgic for the branches and green leaves in spring and summer? Or a short farewell to the branches? When winter goes and spring comes, the new life track of leaves and the new green dream will continue. Don't hurt, don't be sad, breed the soil and wait for the next year.