Bees and butterflies have climbed over the wall, but spring scenery is next door.
-Wang Jia, "After the rain clears"
Shanchang A gray-brown sparrow poked its little head out from under the tiles and retracted its wings in the faint thunder; The wind pulled up a few idle clouds from a distance, moving in the sky, and the dense raindrops beat on the eaves.
Flowers are an implicit language. On a waking dead branch, there is a small mouth in bud, showing a panicked expression.
These elves were smashed to pieces by a sudden rainstorm before they could start their youth and dreams. Then, with the heavy water drops, they fall into the wind one by one, like some unspeakable words. Is the beauty of that land their sad tears? A few stunned young leaves, standing on the empty branches, witnessed the face of life and silently withered in the wind and rain of the season.
Silent sunshine, extended emotional hands, pitifully cleaned up the scene. A group of bees and butterflies, smelling the fragrance, chased around the yard excitedly, but didn't find the flowers in their dreams; I had to fly to my neighbor's house with doubts. Will there be gorgeous spring in the courtyard separated by a wall?