Fearfully, fearfully, the cold wind came, the footsteps of winter are close.
Everything closed its eyes in fear as if it had just hibernated. The mountains are silent, the water is shrinking, and the sun's face is yellow.
The grass fell silently to the ground, decayed and withered. In the garden, in the field, look, a small clump, a small clump full of.
Walking, stepping, stomping two feet, kicking a few shoes, race a few times to run, catch a few times hide and seek. The wind is huffing and puffing, and the grass is soft.
Yang tree, willow tree, ginkgo tree tiger open harbor satin tomatoes and other songs persuade attack slip, you ignore me, I ignore you, all withered leaves gasping for breath. High like poles, thin like fishing rods, curved like radish dry.
Leaves with a bitter flavor; open your eyes, the tree is still vaguely hanging poplar leaves, willow leaves, ginkgo biloba. Thousands of leaves under the trees alas and sobbed, and leaves of all sizes drifted about.
Leaves all over the place is: a variety of samples, named, unnamed, floating in mid-air like a butterfly like ***, but also laugh ah sing ah. "Cracked muscle bone piercing northwest wind", good, like a witch's hand caressing you, the wind with some ancient earthy breath, mixed with the smell of dead grass, and a variety of leaf fragrance, all in the slightly dry air.
Magpies will nest in the bare sequoia among the trees, happy, calling his wife and son to pull his hoarse throat, singing a monotonous tune, with the cold wind and cold rain echoed. The women's dance on the square, this time also no longer *** ringing.
The rain is unusual, one is six or seven days. It can be really annoying.
Look, like ice beads, like grass seeds, like messy silk, rustling, the roof of the house is covered with a layer of thin smoke.
The first thing you need to do is to get a good look at the world, and then you can see the world.
In the evening, the lights are on, and the yellowish light of the lamps accentuates a lonely and depressed night.
In the countryside, there are people walking with umbrellas on the roads and concrete bridges, and there are also students and teachers in the campus who are studying in the evening, wearing ponchos and riding bicycles.
Their figures are sparse, flowing in the rain. The birds in the sky gradually disappeared, and there were fewer children on the ground.
In the city and the countryside, families, old and young, also returned to the nest as if, one by one, they all hid. The students rubbed their palms together and refreshed their spirits, all doing the test papers of various subjects.
"The most bitter day is winter", the end of the year, there are busy, there are harvest. Winter is like a newborn baby, light from head to toe, it hibernates.
Winter is like the old lady, withered face, sighing and moving. Winter is like the hale and hearty old man, with an ice-like face and a whip that drives us forward.
2. request a write winter composition, 500 words, can imitate the "spring" Zhu Ziqing'sI like the birds and flowers in the spring, like the verdant summer, also like the fruitful autumn, but I love the snowy winter more.
The winter girl hurriedly took over the class of Grandma Autumn, with her gift to nature, came to earth.
Early winter, is a beautiful, noble princess, dancing her magical veil, send a piece of white snowflakes.
You see! A small snow particles, like sugar, they flutter in the air, and not in a hurry to land, as if they could not leave the sky. They quietly jumped into the collars of pedestrians and disappeared without a sound. Then, a piece of small snowflakes like smoke as light, jade as clean, silver as white, fluttering, fluttering, from the sky, kissing the earth after a long time. Slowly, slowly, the small snowflakes become larger, thicker, denser, like who shook the jade tree agarwood, the white and flawless petals fell down; later, the snow fell more and more, the small snowflakes in mid-air, you pull me, you hold me, I you embrace tightly, a group, a cluster, as if countless ripped up cotton balls from the sky tumbling down. At this time, the whole world on the side of the confused, beautiful.
In the morning, winter fog. After the fog dispersed, immediately appeared a wondrous scene: the pine needles, condensed with a thick white frost, like a tree tree white chrysanthemums; that deciduous branches wrapped in snow, like a strain of white jade trees; willow silver silk sprinkled, bushes are side into a white coral bush, a thousand different, confusing, trance in the fairy tale world.
Roadside trees covered with silver flowers, hairy, thicker than the original, buildings like the agarwood jade-like glittering dazzling silver. The road is like a layer of white carpet, there is as if the wonderful hand of the painter for the earth painted a white, pure pattern.
Snow, with her clean soul, moving color, magical changes, I do not know how many literary love, leaving tens of thousands of ancient songs. It is true that "there are plums without snow is not the spirit, there is snow without poetry vulgar people. The day after the poem became snow, and the plum and very spring." Liu Zongyuan's "thousands of birds fly away from the mountains, ten thousand paths of people. Lone boat Demoiselle Weng, fishing alone with the river snow" in front of people once showed a quiet landscape painting!
Snow, still under the air, the snowflakes, like flapping wings of the white butterfly, gently fluttering ~ ~ ~ ~
3. imitation of "spring" full text of the winter essay 300 wordsThere are four seasons of the year, each season has a different view, and I like the most when it snows in the winter of the magnificent scenery. In winter, the snow people seem to come to an elegant and quiet realm, to a crystal clear fairy tale world. The fragrance of the pine, the snow of the ice fragrance, giving a kind of cool and soothing. Everything is filtered, everything is sublimated, even my mind is purified, become pure and beautiful.
Snow at dusk, deep cut, as if there are a thousand emotions like, and like the sea is generally raging, able to drown everything, there is a hint of unveiling the hidden head and tail like *** sense. Snowflakes form thousands, crystal bright, like a warrior on the march, wearing silver armor, but also like a piece of white sails in the voyage ......
The scenery in the snow is magnificent, and the sky and the earth are all in one color, you can only see a piece of silver, as if the whole world is decorated with silver to become.
After the snow, the sheer white snow decorating the world, agar branches and jade leaves, powdered jade, white color, really a school of snow in the year of the joyful scene.
I love the snow, I love the snow scene, I love winter. The winter is the wheel of the soul. Winter, although very cold, but it has an incomparable warmth and hope.
What a beautiful view! I can not help but let out a kind of emotion. The first ray of sunshine in the morning shot over, the scenery after the snow is so beautiful. Nearby, far, smoke, I can not believe my eyes, so a small mountain village has appeared so beautiful.
In the distance, is a layer of fog and cold shrouded world, vaguely see some of the trees naughty little head, hidden, as if playing hide and seek with us, far away and the sky is connected, is simply a fairyland on earth; the river willows high up in the head, the body is full of hairy, shiny silver bars, as if they put on a winter bright clothes, looks so vibrant. Nearby, the red brick houses, wafting out a wisp of cooking smoke, looks like a gently soft silver ribbon, to bring the joy of this countryside to every corner of the world; in front of the eyes of the countless bright little stars fell, that is, the pattering snow foam with the wind dancing joyfully, in the sunshine, can be described as heavenly maidens scattered flowers.
Put on the coat, came to a cool and beautiful world, a cold air to meet the face, but also with a little bit of the aroma of snowflakes. What a beautiful countryside, what a beautiful home!
4. Imitate Pop Pop to write an article describing the scenery of not less than 500 wordsWinter is simple and easygoing. There is just the pure white that seeps into the heart.
The earth seems to be in a deep sleep. Perhaps it is preparing for spring! The dead leaves on the trees have long since disappeared, leaving only the bare trunks: the flowers have also entered hibernation, no longer competing for color. The cold wind took away everything, blowing on the face, like a pinch, such as singing a lonely and melodious song, heralding the arrival of winter.
Snowflakes fluttering down from the air, like the winter girl to the people gift, began to be sparse, not a moment on the dense up. Falling on the face, numbness. A piece of snowflakes as if a small elf, in heaven and earth jumped up a happy waltz. At first glance, the world is submerged in white snowflakes, the earth is covered in silver, draped in a soft thick carpet.
Grass is also cared for by the winter girl, covered with a quilt. The river is frozen, as if a large crystal crystal set between heaven and earth. And like a flawless mirror, reflecting people's smiling faces.
"The corner of the number of system plum, Ling cold alone open", the plum blossom that smear of colorful red show in front of everything in spite of the cold, it is also the winter whip, in order to allow people to see the beauty of this right!
The most happy non-belonging to the children, one by one, cheerfully embraced with the winter, as if the stored energy within a year all volatile out. There is a pile of snowmen, some snowball fights, and some want to take the snow home, took a handful of quickly run, lest the white miracle disappear!
Winter is like a young girl, smiling, so that people can not remove their eyes from her boundless white. It leads us through a simple and happy winter.
5. Imitate Zhu Ziqing's "Spring" to write an essay "Winter"North.
Winter. String Moon.
Neon. The first snow begins to drift.
One sits behind a curtain of snowy mist and listens to the sound of snow falling. The falling dead leaves were soon covered by the snow, like a speck of dust disappearing in an instant, along with my memories, sinking together.
It seems that every winter is spent this way, curled up in their own warm cottage, pointing a curling lamp, listening to music, sipping steaming tea, reading a favorite book, looking out the window sliding through the wind, rain and snow, a year, a year, a year, a year and a week. I would like to be so perched in their own castle, quietly watching the years years, such as water passing.
I don't know whether the traces of the years have hung on my face, whether they have been engraved in my heart. I know that one day, my eyes are no longer as clear as snowflakes.
Years after a snowstorm, whether it will remember the year that the woman behind the snow curtain, once the past, such as the heart of the snow. Lift your eyes and look at the pedestrians on the road, each footsteps in a hurry.
The winter solstice has not yet arrived, the cold at the moment is not yet bone-chilling, must be a person walking alone on the road, look at those who will fall not fall the remnants of the leaves fluttering, will feel a little desolate, will feel the warmth of the home, will involuntarily speed up the pace. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get a good deal on a new product, but I'm sure you're going to be able to get a good deal on a new product.
When I think of this, I can't help but laugh, not at others, but at myself. The first thing I want to do is to get the best out of the world, and I want to be able to do that.
As if wings were born in my heart, I traveled through time and space, fluttering and flying, and flew through a journey for me. The original imagination can also be so real, can also be so ridiculous.
Suddenly remembered an old song many years ago: the emotional collection, so that memories leave a blank, forget the past that once had the past, forever and ever no longer say love ...... like these simple old songs, just a few words will solve all the sadness. When the promise of the year, can be realized will have a few sentences? I don't know, and I can't prove it.
Just know that it can no longer bring the slightest excitement or dizziness, such as fireworks blooming in the night sky, the beauty belongs to her only a moment, the gusty winds blowing away, the prosperity of the curtain, all return to nothing. The moonlight and snow shadow shook the window and came in, sprinkled in the window table, sprinkled on my forehead, moisturizing my soul.
Fingertips again fluttering, pouring out her loneliness. But it is a game and a dream, but the rules of such a game are impermanent, such a dream, see the other side of the river, but can not swim across.
The play is wonderful, the time to play, the time to fall curtains. This game is very helpless, from clear to fuzzy, from spring flowers to autumn dew.
Such as the wind a wisp, snow a scene, random sinking and floating, do not know how the direction, do not know where the end. "Going in spite of going, coming in spite of coming; going to come in the middle, and how the rush?" Mr. Zhu Ziqing penned "hurry" let me sigh, so everything is destined to hurry, poor me life, but also can not chase.
The snow outside the window has lived. I stopped in place, like a dance tired butterfly, powerless to fly away. Winter, waiting for the snowflakes have long been falling, the leaves fall one by one, open the window, a winter scene in front of you.
The winter girl seems to be in love with this place, winter is long. A cold wind hangs, the face is as hard as a knife cut.
The wind and the gray khaki filled the sky and danced a collective dance. Winter days are short, nights are long, every dawn is a hope, perhaps winter is so, like to make people wait.
6. Imitation of Zhu Ziqing's spring to write about winter 600 words or soLooking forward to, looking forward to, the north wind came, the footsteps of winter is close.
Everything looks like it has just fallen asleep, dimly closing its eyes. The mountains got lonely, the water got quiet, and the sun's face lit up.
The flowers fell silently from their branches, petal by petal, flower by flower. In the park, in the flower garden, look at it, a large area full of.
Haunted, jumping, jumping a few ropes, kicking a few balls, throwing a few baskets, throwing a few sandbags, the wind is cool, the grass is withered and yellow. Poplars, willows, pines, you look at me, I look at you, are upright body stand guard.
The thick ones are like pillars, the tall ones are like towers, and the upright ones are like swords. In the branches of the tree with tiredness; closed eyes, the tree seems to have been full of strength, expectations, dreams.
Bustling around the tree, children play excitedly, cute dogs slink around. Leaves all over the place are: mixed samples, round, fan-shaped, lying under the tree, like children, like elves, adorned in the branches, but also dance ah dance.
"The severe winter is not killed, how to see the spring" is not bad, knife-like cold wind attacked people. The wind with some cool icy breath, mixed with the smell of soil, and the fragrance of plum blossoms, all in the slightly dry air back and forth.
People morning exercise in the silent park, busy, invite friends to practice Tai Chi, roar a few voices of opera, run around the circle. The old grandpa birdcage of the birds, this time also in the gentle singing.
Snow is the most cozy, one is two or three days. The first thing you need to do is to get a good look at the snow, and you can see that it's like a willow, a goose feather, a butterfly, gently fluttering, a white veil on the roofs of people's houses, the branches of the trees are like antlers, and the earth is covered with a silver coat.
In the evening, when the lights are on, there are pieces of bright light, setting off a quiet and mysterious night. Downstairs, in the yard, by the side of the road, there are hot snowplowers, there are children playing snowball fights, and some of them are building a snowman.
The silver-white world, clean and dry, reverie in the snow. The weather is getting cooler, and the scenery on the road is fading.
The city and the countryside, the streets and alleys, pedestrians, are in a hurry, to the home. Drink a cup of hot tea, warm body, soothe the muscles and bones, shaking the spirit.
"Not after some bone-chilling cold, how to get the fragrance of plum blossoms." The advent of winter, there is abrasion, there is hope.
Winter is like the old-fashioned magician, waving with a baton, but also changing. Winter is like a young and strong boy, not afraid of the cold, laughing and running.
Winter is like a loving mother, with a warm chest and heart, nurturing the next spring.
7. Imitate Zhu Ziqing's spring to write about winterFearful, fearful, the cold wind came, the footsteps of winter are close.
Everything looks like it has just hibernated and closed its eyes in fear. The mountains are silent, the water is shrinking, and the sun's face is yellow.
The grass fell silently to the ground, decayed and withered. In the garden, in the field, look, a small clump, a small clump full of.
Walking, stepping, stomping two feet, kicking a few shoes, race a few times to run, catch a few times hide and seek. The wind is huffing and puffing, and the grass is soft.
Yang tree, willow tree, ginkgo tree, you do not care about me, I do not care about you, all withered leaves gasping for air. The tall ones are like poles, the thin ones are like fishing rods, and the curved ones are like radish trunks.
Leaves with a bitter flavor; open your eyes, the tree vaguely still hanging poplar leaves, willow leaves, ginkgo biloba. Thousands of leaves under the tree alas and sob, the size of the leaves floating around.
Leaves all over the place is: a variety of samples, named, unnamed, floating in mid-air like a butterfly like ***, but also laugh ah sing ah. "Cracked muscle bone piercing northwest wind", good, like a witch's hand caressing you, the wind with some ancient earthy breath, mixed with the smell of dead grass, and a variety of leaf fragrance, all in the slightly dry air wafting.
Magpies will nest in the bare sequoia among the trees, happy, calling his wife and son to pull his hoarse throat, singing a monotonous tune, with the cold wind and cold rain echoed. The women's dance on the square, this time also no longer *** ringing.
The rain is unusual, one is six or seven days. It can be really annoying.
Look, like ice beads, like grass seeds, like messy silk, rustling, the roof of the house is covered with a layer of thin smoke.
The first thing you need to do is to get a good look at the world, and then you can see the world.
In the evening, the lights are on, and the yellowish light of the lamps accentuates a lonely and desolate night.
In the countryside, there are people walking with umbrellas on the roads and concrete bridges, and there are also students and teachers in the campus who are studying in the evening, wearing ponchos and riding bicycles.
Their figures are sparse, flowing in the rain. The birds in the sky gradually disappeared, and there were fewer children on the ground.
In the city and the countryside, families, old and young, also returned to the nest as if, one by one, they all hid. The students rubbed their palms together and refreshed their spirits, all doing the test papers of various subjects.
"The most bitter day is winter", the end of the year, there are busy, there are harvest. Winter is like a newborn baby, light from head to toe, it hibernates.
Winter is like the old lady, withered face, sighing and moving. Winter is like the hale and hearty old man, with an icy face and a whip that hurries us forward.
8. Imitate Zhu Ziqing's spring to write about winter in about 600 wordsLooking forward, looking forward, the north wind came, the footsteps of winter is close.
Everything looks like it has just fallen asleep, dimly closing its eyes. The mountains got lonely, the water got quiet, and the sun's face lit up.
The flowers fell silently from their branches, petal by petal, flower by flower. In the park, in the flower garden, look at it, a large area full of.
Haunted, jumping, jumping a few ropes, kicking a few balls, throwing a few baskets, throwing a few sandbags, the wind is cool, the grass is withered and yellow. Poplars, willows, pines, you look at me, I look at you, are upright body stand guard.
The thick ones are like pillars, the tall ones are like towers, and the upright ones are like swords. In the branches of the tree with tiredness; closed eyes, the tree seems to have been full of strength, expectations, dreams.
Bustling around the tree, children play excitedly, cute dogs slink around. Leaves all over the place are: mixed samples, round, fan-shaped, lying under the tree, like children, like elves, adorned in the branches, but also dance ah dance.
"The severe winter is not killed, how to see the spring" is not bad, knife-like cold wind attacked people. The wind with some cool icy breath, mixed with the smell of soil, and the fragrance of plum blossoms, all in the slightly dry air back and forth.
People morning exercise in the silent park, busy, invite friends to practice Tai Chi, roar a few voices of opera, run around the circle. The old grandpa birdcage of the birds, this time also in the gentle singing.
Snow is the most cozy, one is two or three days. The first thing you need to do is to get a good look at the snow, and you can see that it's like a willow, a goose feather, a butterfly, gently fluttering, a white veil on the roofs of people's houses, the branches of the trees are like antlers, and the earth is covered with a silver coat.
In the evening, when the lights are on, there is a piece of bright light, which sets off a quiet and mysterious night. Downstairs, in the yard, by the side of the road, there are hot snowplowers, there are children playing snowball fights, and some of them are building a snowman.
The silver-white world, clean and dry, reverie in the snow. The weather is getting cooler, and the scenery on the road is fading.
The city and the countryside, the streets and alleys, pedestrians, are in a hurry, to the home. Drink a cup of hot tea, warm body, soothe the muscles and bones, shaking the spirit.
"Not after some bone-chilling cold, how to get the fragrance of plum blossoms." The advent of winter, there is abrasion, there is hope.
Winter is like the old-fashioned magician, waving with a baton, but also changing. Winter is like a young and strong boy, not afraid of the cold, laughing and running.
Winter is like a loving mother, with a warm chest and heart, nurturing the next spring.