Pieces of green in different shades,
Watching the outside world carefully,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.
The grass that just sticks its head out,
sometimes lift it up,
look around,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
like a paradise on earth,
Bend it now and then,
into the stream,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
The stream is microwaved,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly
There is a bridge over the creek,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
looming, smoky,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
like a mirage,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
danced lightly,
The flowers follow the breeze,
crystal clear,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,