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