A beautiful essay about the moon is 200 words.

The shape of the moon is like a hook in Alakazam, bright and cold, like the street and the moving wind in this season. Such a crescent moon always reminds me of the sentence that "the moon is like a hook, and the solitary phoenix tree locks the deep courtyard in autumn", but the season is no longer to enjoy chrysanthemums and crabs, leaving a faint clear autumn. Dead leaves flying obliquely make people more likely to think of fire or a warm bed.

Shrinking shadows, dim roofs, and some rustling sounds in the dark float in the empty alleys at night, which is solemn and profound. At this time, the ears are particularly sensitive, and some subtle noises will be collected at the bottom of the ears through several houses. Maybe we are used to hearing noise and noise on weekdays, and we always ignore the details of language in conversation, which will make mistakes in semantics, thus mistakenly thinking that our ears are old and noisy.

The month is always changing, above villages, cities, rivers and books, inside and outside dreams and houses. I think the moon should be vicissitudes of life! It used to be grandpa's month, Su Dongpo's month and Qin Dynasty's month. It is awake, like a hermit living in a wide courtyard, experiencing cold and heat, reading all the changes in temperature. It silently tells the gloomy faces and all kinds of smiles on their faces. It uses its own streamers to decorate the scenes of the years in different buildings and wilderness.

The moon is like a hook. Between the hook in Alakazam and the flying clouds, there are often cold clouds covering the whole body. Although the moon is as heavy as water, it is full of murderous look, like a broken tile in an alley, emerging from the water in a stream, staged a thrilling fight in ancient times and a competition in the era of cold weapons. In this case, no one will expect the moon, but no one will expect it.

At this time, many dreams of Huaizi, Huaifu and Huaifu were bitten off by frequent dog barks in thousands of villages and alleys in Qian Qian. But the stream on the edge of the village, with the twists and turns of the moon, reached the sea at night and reached a wider territory. The moon and water left no definite information for these homesick villages, only the voices of husbands. The moon is listening, and the moon is spying.

Zhang Jiuling said, "The moon has now crossed the sea, and the end of the world is * * * at this time". At this time, although the moon and * * *, the moon is luxurious, and it belongs to Wuling teenagers; It is the month when cups and plates are on the market and bamboo flutes blow; This is a month to praise and whitewash peace. Here, this month has nothing to do with the countryside, the hungry and Du Zimei. Although the moon is looked up, celebrated and sung, it is radiant and clean, but it is hard to hide its indifference. Some nights are historical, political, conspiratorial, bloody, blasphemous and * * *.

Just as we misinterpret words, we misinterpret the moon and its coldness.

Just like it has no Chang 'e, no osmanthus tree, no Wugang, it has only a cold crater and is thin. It is just a satellite running between celestial bodies, an endless galaxy, a small star in the solar system, and it is just a pile of matter. It is visually regarded as a reference object, and then it returns to a subject, which is referenced by the roof or trees in my hometown. Because of its star run and glory flow, in Mount Tai.

The moon, especially the full moon, with its unique individual and irreplaceable sadness, has become a symbol of the origin and reunion of ideas for thousands of years, and it is an image that China culture can't surpass. Accumulated a deep understanding and understanding of language, so that emotions can be felt and expressed delicately. "Looking up, I found that it was moonlight, and it sank back again, and I suddenly thought of home" and "I don't know who Qiu Si will fall on tonight" will leave the wandering feelings. On dusty nights and lonely boats, I took the moonlight of my hometown and embarked on one journey after another. One day, I suddenly remembered my parents who were far away. When I opened my bag, I found that the moon was no longer the round of leaving home. Become incomplete, incomplete, unfamiliar, and no longer know each other. But it still hangs quietly in the vast atrium, still sprinkling bright moonlight. My hometown is far away and the moon has just risen.

However, the moon and hometown will always be remembered and will always be beautiful. In spring, in my childhood in my hometown, the softness of the land and a snake wandered in the budding grass, bathed in the stiffness of winter in the moonlight, and then returned to my cave to listen to squirrels jumping out of their nests, breathe the moonlight in spring, and study that lovely face by the gurgling stream in pure moonlight. The moonlight will come soon. Concise. Tadpoles in ponds or streams began to grow thick legs between duckweed leaves and aquatic plants and began to melt their tails. Then, in the flowing months, they began to sing and write the brightest moonlight songs. In the wooden fish in the twenty-four solar terms, the moonlight danced with the sound, like jumping in G major and slow in E minor, and flew through the roof tile window.

We spent half our time under the moon, and we began to learn to listen and talk under various moons. In a slow process, we learn to know and be familiar with the moon and understand its ups and downs. There are too many similarities in our sight, but in our world, every moon is not repetitive and unique. When we looked at the sky bleakly, no one knew what happened under the moon.