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