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