The scenery under the sun floated in front of the eyes like no trace.
A person stands quietly in the field, the wasteland in the distance is the field, the endless empty green, the vastness, like floating on the empty and vast field, those poplar trees that float low in the sky, those poplar trees that float in the sky, how indifferent should it be, the arrival of that spring, I stand in the field, looking at it from afar, stretching out my hands to touch the wheat, thinking, There is an extraordinary beauty?
At the bend in the road, picking up a flower, a drop of crystal clear flowers, they are like very naughty children, crowded in the field by the side of the road, I dare not easily touch, the rose petals in my hand are held tightly together, from time to time, let them follow the wind.
The flowers on the road are blooming brilliantly, and I want to say, aren't we like this too? I picked up the flowers, looked at them carefully, sniffed them lightly, and a warmth rose in my heart.
I love this flower, what is so special, deep emotion that can compare to this and so? I know that they have come to life, that they have the most brilliant life in the world.
The rain washed away the white petals and flew like white butterflies. I don't know what kind of mood this is? Strolling in this long drizzle, I suddenly remembered a poem: the beautiful scenery of the good day, the appreciation of the scenery and the fragrance of flowers.