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