It was the birch trail not far from the lake, the yellowing leaves, the golden color of the pavement, and the swaying figure in the wind that made me feel somewhat dim.
The fog-like rain fell on the yellowing leaves, and the rain-dew on the leaves gradually grew heavier, but still gentle.
After the shower, the yellowing leaves became even more haggard, drops of water falling from the walls of the French sycamore.