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