On a winter night, like a kind mother, she gently clothed the earth with a gentle coat. The cold wind shuttles through the silent night, as light as a fairy, bringing a different kind of peace and tranquility to the earth. The cold wind caresses the earth, like a mother gently patting her child's back to make him sleep peacefully.
Winter, unlike the heat of summer, makes people upset, nor like the warm sun of spring, which makes people drowsy. It's not like the coolness of autumn, which makes people feel refreshed. The coldness of the winter night, both serious and deep, seems to paint a quiet and mysterious picture with frost and snow. It silences the earth, as if only snowflakes and cold winds are dancing lightly in this quiet universe.
The snow that has not yet melted is as hard as iron under the street lamp, flickering with a faint and cold brilliance, like a cold poet, depicting a picture of winter with cold words. The snow piled up on the dead branches is like a white cloud, quietly telling the story of winter.
The cold wind howled, blowing the snowflakes in the air, like a fluttering butterfly, adding a mystery and poetry to this cold world, like a dancer, performing the dance of life in the ice and snow. In this snow-covered world, it was as if everything was frozen, except for the faint lights and the quiet snow.
In the depths of winter nights, the cold air blows in the face, and there is nowhere to escape. The surface of the lake is covered in a thick layer of ice, like an ancient mirror, silently reflecting the cold night. The aquatic plants under the ice are like a group of old people with their backs bent, bending their bodies, as if they are bearing the weight of the years.
At the end of a busy day, I always drop everything I have at hand and quietly walk downstairs to enjoy a moment of peace. There is no specific destination for this kind of stroll, and there is no time constraint, just a person slowly wandering along the road. With the rhythm of the pace, I seem to feel the busy self of the day gradually returning, and rediscovering my inner peace and self.
During this walk, I will have a dialogue with myself in a unique way. As if an artist was on the canvas, I allowed my soul to be baptized and nourished by the stroll. Whether it is the breeze caressing my face or the shadows of the trees in the night, it has become my inspiration to think about life and understand the world**.
Sometimes, I stop, look up at the stars, and let my thoughts twinkle with the stars. At this time, I will think of the night in the countryside when I was a child, with the stars in the sky and the crisp croaking of frogs. That deep homesickness is like a warm embrace, which makes me find a little solace in my busy city life.
During my walk, I was always engrossed in observing every tree that passed me, from the tender green of spring to the bare of winter, and I witnessed every subtle change in their seasons. Sometimes, I would stop under a tree and listen quietly, as if I could hear the life inside them.
The trees in winter, like a restrained and resolute wise man, reveal a kind of ability and composure that washes away the lead. Their branches are like the painter's brushstrokes, clear and powerful, painting a lonely and far-reaching picture in the quiet sky. Although those branches have endured the wind, frost, rain and snow, they still stand upright, showing an indomitable spirit.