Fall to the ground in the posture of flowers. The petals of ice and the cool snow heart are round, clear and moist, and quietly dyed white everywhere.
Listen carefully, snowflakes are singing and dancing, playing an ancient tune with a romantic moon, floating quietly and singing slowly and clearly. The notes fell on the thick snow, leaving unclean rain to penetrate the snow. ...
A pot of fragrant tea was brewed in the room, and the ancient rhyme of landing penetrated through the crack of the door, and the sound was Ran Ran and elegant in the rising aroma. Ancient villages, weeping willows and stone arch bridges flow in the sound of guzheng ... pick up some memory notes at will, put them on the incense burner to warm your heart, and chase the snow outside the window to listen to the rhythm. With the gentleness of past lives and the kindness of warmth in this life, a pot of green tea leaps onto the piano surface of the guzheng, making the long piano sound shine. ...
The snow in the yard is thick and clear, and the fallen petals are cold and cold. A few small flowers in the gap in the yard are red, yellow and purple. The snow in the yard has bright vitality and noble color against the background. Flowers are like words, snow is like paper, flowers fall on paper, and books are poems. A beautiful' seven words' jumped into the thick snow. With the warmth of the house and the mellow smell of the ear, it is mellow wine that makes the years, drunk with thick snow, drunk with the courtyard, and drunk with the warmth of a house. ...
A ray of yellowish light hung obliquely from the courtyard wall and landed on the stone table in the courtyard. According to a bunch of green leaves in a clay pot on the stone table. Cui Cui, fresh and tender. But the cry of spring is the longing of leaves, and a spring song floats in the distance. The fragrance of the earth contains the seeds of urging spring and the singing of cuckoo. Snowflakes suck the milk of the earth, scatter colorful flowers and feel the breath and beauty of spring. ...
Snowflakes are still falling, the warmth and feelings of a place. Open the diary of the years, write down the beauty of yesterday, carve the glory of today and meet the hope of tomorrow. Blend the fragrance of spring, the clarity of summer and the red leaves of autumn into snowflakes. Warm snowflakes, warm you and me, warm hope ...
Listen to the snow, in the snow.