Poetry in spring is 2-3 words.

Near, near, I hear the footsteps of spring, the sun shines on the earth, everything that has slept for a winter finally wakes up and everything is full of vitality. Looking around, everything is green except green. Spring is like a poem. Isn't that beautiful poem just like a bright flower blooming on the grass? By the pond, there are several willows, which take off their golden cotton-padded jackets and put on bright green spring clothes. A warm wind blew, and wicker rippled in the wind with the rhythm of spring, just like an ancient poem: I don't know who cut the thin leaves, but the spring breeze is like scissors. Spring is like a painting, which is praising the blooming flowers, as red as fire and as white as jade; That painting also praises the strong will of the green grass; That painting also praises all the good things in the world ... On the grass in the park, wild flowers are everywhere: miscellaneous. Those with names and those without names look like stars from a distance, and they still blink. This poetic spring, I praise you!