I think you are more like my Iraqi.
Send me lovesickness all day. I meditated on those beautiful and kind eyes all day.
The world is vast.
Can you really give us such a close relationship? ?
Let us truly feel the beauty of the world, just like on the branches and under the branches this season. Does it smell like flowers?
But here, only you, cicada! Singing in the trees all day, let me listen under the tree all day.
Just a kind of lovesickness.
Acacia, you really look like my Iraqi. But it's not true.
Below you, I can only enjoy, suffer, hope, despair, listen, fear and think quietly. Go wait.
Wait! I also know that you will have nowhere to live until the autumn leaves are gone, just like waiting for the sun to set and finally drinking nectar and dying.
Like the real reality, but also let me watch quietly, powerless.
What will happen to me? I only gave a wry smile.
Laughter: I am not dead, wearing thin clothes. Under the branches of trees in this brown winter, I hate the world. Cicada (prose poem)
one
With the tenor voice and high-pitched melody, summer has been dragged on for so long. The crimson drumsticks in the sky also make you put out the fire.
two
The children in the mountains make you fidget, one by one naked and scorched by the sun.
three
Because of your high-frequency interference, shy boys and girls in Liuyin don't have to worry about being eavesdropped.
four
And the buffalo that arched into the pond. They disdained the scorching sun and looked up and sneered: Cleisthenes. ......
five
Affectionate singer, are you too obsessed? Why can't you always sing this boring love song? Shouting all my life, just to get the willow tips swaying casually. ......
cicada
Cicada is a beautiful poem.
Its color and shape have an elegant aesthetic feeling.
Cicada's eyes are like two black pearls, and its streamlined body seems to be carved from ebony. Its dignified colors and three-dimensional patterns make it as beautiful as ancient handicrafts. Its wings are very close to the body, and the beautiful patterns on its wings are like ripples sent by the wind.
In the morning, I often see one or two new cicadas perched low on the trunk. The black cicada and silver wings form a beautiful picture with the dark green trunk. Cicada is the most exquisite pendant designed by the creator for trees.
Cicada is really a beautiful poem.
In midsummer, cicadas perch on tall sycamore trees or elm willows and sing in the wind. The lofty songs are high and low, near and far, and intermittent. This song is combined together, like a string of pearls flowing between branches and leaves, and like a breeze swaying in the shade. ...
In the quiet afternoon, people take a break in front of the gallery, shake their fans, close their eyes and listen to the wonderful music played by the huge music array in the green curtain in the distance. The sound of "Ji Ji-"is beautiful, like a gurgling stream in a mountain stream, coming from a distance, like a breeze rustling in the forest, swaying leisurely.
Cicada's voice is a kind of pastoral interest, a kind of love for rural life, and a quiet visualization, which brings it to life.
Cicada is a beautiful poem, a cool poem, rhyming in the depths of the green forest.