Lyric prose at the beginning of a great era

Take care of the birds in the yard before dawn. They kept making noise and woke up the sleeping people. Actually, I'm used to the noise. The yard of the community is very big, with trees in the Woods and small bridges running water. Flowers bloom all year round and the environment is quiet. The yard is next to Huangzhong Park. Birds nest and breed back and forth. Naturally, there are more and more birds, and some migratory birds also visit this garden. No one bothered them. They are noisy and live happily. I like this morning very much. I like listening to the sound of the morning, especially in spring.

In the morning, the first thing I heard was not the chirping of birds, but the morning breeze blew off a few dead leaves hanging on the branches of Ginkgo biloba and Begonia, touched the tree stems, fell to the ground and made a listening sound. Even a winter's persistence can't stop the growth of spring, but I returned to the earth mercilessly this morning, and new life is growing, and it also sends out incomprehensible notes. Only the treetops make a sound under the dance of the spring breeze. I heard three kinds of sounds, fallen leaves, the pulse of leaves and the dance of the wind. She is a process of the disappearance and birth of life, a process of ideological progress and evolution. Why don't I try to listen to her?

I like spring mornings. When I open the window, fragrant flowers rush in. At this time, the bud is in full bloom, the petals are slowly opening from the calyx, and the stamens are protruding from the receptacle.

The filament reveals a subtle number. Just then, the dew rolled into the greenhouse, shook off a petal of flowers, slowly left my brothers and sisters, fell into the lake, floated to the shore and flew to the grass. In the next few days, they were blown apart by the ruthless wind, withered and rotted, but it did not lose its greatness, and it gave birth to another new life, waiting for the autumn harvest. I heard three kinds of sounds: petals open, stamens extend and petals fall. The sound is so small and clear; It is so weak that it can only be recovered by dreams. It seems that you have to look at her, look at her so that you can hear and understand. This is to care for a life cycle with a lifetime of faith and efforts.

I like the spring morning, running in the forest path, breathing the humid air, listening to the beautiful birds singing, the wind whistling past my ears, the morning light passing through the tall trees, spreading all over my body, and the thin water mist rising from the river, dancing and swaying with the runners with the morning wind, and wasting away in the rising sun. All life has ushered in a new day. Pigeons in the opposite house hover on the roof, their wings rub in the air, and they make rhythmic sounds in flight, which is pleasant to listen to. They call each other, rise and fall, rise and fall, no matter how far and high they fly, they will eventually return to their homes or land on their owners' roofs. This is the power of life, thinking with soul, expressing rhyme page by page for you to understand and listen to.

We are used to the flowers and plants in spring, to the flowers blooming and falling, but we don't really feel what she has given us. We live a bumpy life, blindly worship and follow the trend, unwilling to let go of the heavy burden we have received, unwilling to listen to harsh criticism, unwilling to let go of those fantasies, let our lives evolve once, and let our thoughts innovate once, such as buds turning into green leaves, residual flowers leaving green fruits, birds breaking out of their shells, and a new round of hope rising in Ran Ran.

How much this era needs such a thoroughly remoulded change to evolve into another spring morning! Another great entrepreneur and thinker has evolved! !