秋深了,城市向阳的窗台多了两物,先是白薯——那是地气的凝结,后面跟着柿子——山气的胶聚。坊间相传柿有七绝:长寿,多阴,无鸟巢,无虫蛀,霜叶可玩,嘉宾,落叶肥滑可作书。一株没有鸟做巢的柿树,享寿千年,可够多么寂寞?再没虫子相与玩耍,那么大的一盘树阴空投山间隙地,远峰峥嵘,与自己都有关,与自己都无关。柿叶经霜变红,不全红,一个叶片上黄红斑杂,黄色润厚,红是真红,像鸡血石。说它的叶可以拿过来写字,落墨, Autumn is deep, the city sunflower bay window more than two things, first sweet potato - that is the condensation of gentility, followed by persimmon - mountain of glue together. There are seven persimmon persimmon: longevity, cloudy, no bird’s nest, no moth-eaten, frost leaves play, guests, deciduous slippery can be a book. A tree without birds to do the nest of persimmon, enjoy a thousand years of life, how lonely? No worms and play, so a large tree a dark sky, the peak towering, with their own are related to themselves Nothing to do Persimmon leaf by the cream turns red, incomplete red, yellow leaves on a yellow complex, yellow thick, red is really red, like a bloodstone. Said it can take the leaves to write, drop ink,