There is a bird's nest on the arm of the tree.
The branches dotted with new rain are particularly dazzling.
Looking at the raindrops in the distance
Baihe goes from highway to hillside.
Come and send out filar silk early spring.
Twill brocade
The green carpet extends and the wind thins the clothes.
Listen to the creaking flowers.
Look at Ding Dong mountain spring
Wandering snail
Fear triggers hibernation.
Smelling the tea, the charming mother is all over the mountain.
Listen to Song Tao, the strong man sings.
Silkworm under his arm, childish to orchid.
Stretching the delicate leaves turned sesame into life.
Sing a harmonious melody
Qiao Qiong Jiang Bi Wan.
Black, black spot
Be careful, be careful
The half-slope basket bends and turns half a spring.
Pick up an umbrella
Hang it on the willow tree by the pool.
At the scar tumor
Impressive soup with exudate, licking.
The mushroom-shaped mill hides mother's morning dream.
Niao niao chui Yan shan gang
I can still smell a wisp of onion fragrance on the grave of years.
Renovated soil, thawed and mixed with snow for storage.
Proud resentment
Spring evaporates into white clouds.
The scene of Vientiane renewal
The fragrance of rape and wheat when sowing.
Fruits in full bloom in autumn are very busy in summer.
Flocks of frogs and wheat awns
Scared me from watching the midday sun.
Father's mowing sickle dare not hold it in his arms.
Spring fertilizer warms the feed, and thousands of knives harm the seedlings.
Flushed. Stamens, screaming cats
Bamboo shoots that broke ground in the mountains, yellowed fish and rice.
Looking at pregnancy, I don't know the joy of childbirth.
Busy life, painting white walls
Ink recorded on the title page
Voice fantasy, eager to grow up
I didn't feel at a loss until dawn
spring scenery
Opening the window in the morning is another sunrise.
Take a walk, on both sides of the street.
Fragrant birds float with the flowers.
I don't know where I got the courage
Jump on my shoulder and make people fly.
Onions on the grass
Connect the feet of pedestrians in series.
It has become a grand ballroom with the same color as the sea and sky.
* * * Dancing in the green sea in spring.
Numb heart, forget the flow of yesterday.
The wind celebrates the willow tapestry embellishment
The green buds of Indus depict the growth of annual rings.
The photos in that camera
And the trembling stereo.
The orderliness of several symbols
Twisted into an invisible net
What have we done?
Next season, the hope of spring