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