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