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