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