Pick up All the Cold Branches

The autumn wind blows and white clouds fly, and the grass and trees turn yellow and the swallows return to the south. The osmanthus and the orchid paddle hit the sky and trace the flowing light. It's so small that I feel pregnant with it, and I look forward to the beauty in the sky. There is so much joy and so much sorrow, what can we do if we are separated from life and death?