Poetry and Prose in Spring

Spring in Beijing/Beijingers Spring in Beijing is short and poetic. With the spring breeze and spring rain, it quietly dressed up the capital Beijing as unparalleled. Spring breeze will blow the yellow lawn green. The weeping willows on the shore also took the opportunity to spit out buds and sway branches to express their respect for spring. Spring rain _ moistens the dry land, and everything is scrambling to open up wasteland under the shower of spring rain. They stretched and greedily breathed the breath of spring. The flowing water of the thawed river, I don't know which song it is singing, Haruka, Primula, with the message of spring, adds a bit of charm to Beijing's spring. On both sides of the road, street gardens are full of its blooming flower season. A bird wronged in winter is happy at this time. They opened their voices and sang one song after another, praising spring. The antique buildings with red walls and green tiles and the magnificent palace buildings have a panoramic view of Beijing's spring poetry and painting. Tourists flock to this beautiful modern city from all directions. Take a vacation, climb the Great Wall, visit the Sleeping Buddha Temple in Xiangshan and see the historical treasures of the Palace Museum. The front gate dashilan, which was restored to the original appearance of Manchu dynasty, gave Beijingers memories of the past. People have taken to the streets, taking advantage of the beautiful spring and enjoying the comfort of spring, which is an illusion of nature. Spring in Beijing is a continuation of vitality. It gives us too much beauty, and it also gives us the opportunity to explore again. Let us cherish the great opportunity of spring with a hundredfold effort, and let the spring breeze of reform and opening up make the capital Beijing full of youthful vitality forever. A modern poem praising spring: the snow and ice melt, and the footsteps of spring are approaching. Everyone longs for spring, apricot rain with wet clothes, and cold willow wind. First, the small forest in the city turned green, and the humble life of ants and flying insects in my small forest came under the soil with spring. I heard the sound of earthworms crawling and knocked down the closed door of the soil on the grass in the grove with their soft heads. I saw a group of goats waving their long beards and bleating my youth and soul. A black goat came to me leisurely, with tears of happiness on his face. Second, push open the door of spring and hear birds singing in the city. A few primrose birds were afraid to go into town, but they cheered outside the school. They are as simple as farmers in rural areas, which makes me feel close. They are my friends. It seems that they are relatives I met by chance. They are looking for unknown bugs and making friendly sounds to their peers outside school. I fell in love with the sound of birds. I pushed open the door of spring in the contention of birds. This spring, this spring, my heart is in a mess. Sometimes I think of some tombstones, and sometimes I think of my childhood. This spring, my heart is in a mess. Spring poetry has been full of spring poetry. My poems are spring leaves and crowns. What else can I do this spring? Who can I embrace spring and time with?