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