Rain is the soul of water, whimpering among the green trees, jumping among the lotus flowers and playing music briskly on the lake. All this seems to wash away the glitz of the world and tell and perform thousands of years' poems.
Tree
"The quieter the cicada forest, the quieter Tonamiyama." Trees are sipping dew after rain on the mountain, and flapping birds are constantly shuttling through the Woods. Occasionally, a cicada cries crisp, and the fragmentary crystal dew turns into countless pearls in panic and hides itself in the soil. The roots of trees are intricately embedded in the soil and quietly absorbed into these "pearls". Raindrops will quietly take root in the body of the tree, sprout and flourish. My friend, when you walk by the tree after the rain, please listen carefully-listen to the sound of the raindrops blooming ...
A little bit of rain, a faint fragrance, a touch of sunlight and a faint tree feeling, all bloom the most beautiful flowers on this day in Chu Qing after the rain.
Lotus
On the lips and teeth of lotus, only the rain can disperse the deep red, which makes the whole world brilliant. Because I love lotus, I hope the rain will cut my ice-cold loneliness with sharp weapons. Whenever this happens, I will sit by the lotus pond and watch the lotus leaves and flowers snuggle up. That loneliness is like evaporated water without a trace. The whisper of the lotus flower in the rain has long been fixed as out-of-print tenderness in my eyes, but the rain doubts the grace of the lotus flower and slaps it with its tail. Lotus leaves always become sacred objects holding high in the sky, blocking the attack of rain with their bodies. Someone once said, "Lotus leaf is the mother of lotus." Yes, it's good. Otherwise, how can there be a little care and careful care of the leaves?
All this is dispersed into a watercolor in the rain, touching the mother's heart.
Lake
The lake is like a mirror, reflecting countless sunlight. When the rain comes, it keeps shaking, like tension and excitement. Under the sting of raindrops, the lake gave out one cheerful cry after another, which kept shaking my heart.
in a short time, the raindrops turned into rain hammers, which hit the heart of the lake heavily. I asked the lake, "Does it hurt?" "It doesn't hurt, like touching." Oh, I see, rain is the soul of water and the purest and cleanest river in the world. All this, in the rain, has become the realm of "smoke cage cold water moon cage sand".
I suddenly feel like dancing in the street with an umbrella and spinning raindrops. Then throw away the umbrella in the street and let the rain soak into the soul, revive the dead heart and say: it's good to rain!