Eternal Landscape Lyrical Prose Eternal Landscape Lyrical Prose 1
In the long river of life, time is slowly passing away, but some beautiful moments in life are engraved in our hearts . It may not be that shocking or exciting. But it is so beautiful in our hearts.
In my heart, there is a beautiful picture.
It was a hot summer day, and I went to my aunt’s house to play. On the road, I saw a man lying on the ground, taking out something unknown with his hands. He was wearing a yellow shirt with the word "Cleaner" written on the back. At this time. Only then did I realize that the man lying on the ground was a cleaner.
What is he doing? I thought to myself. "Looking closer, it turned out that he was cleaning a sewer blocked by garbage. This irritating smell was floating around, making passers-by not want to stay here for a moment. And there was sewage all around him. And this A cleaner endured this irritating smell and was cleaning the sewers in this bad environment." While I was thinking here, a young man suddenly rode past him quickly on a bicycle. The sewage on the ground splashed up and splashed on the cleaner. I thought: This cleaner will definitely stand up and severely criticize this young man. However, the reality was the opposite. The cleaner stood up and looked at the young man riding the bicycle without saying anything. Maybe he saw that the young man... was in a hurry and was chasing time. He watched the young man go away for a long time, then squatted down and continued working.
Another time, my father took me back to my hometown. On the way, my father's motorcycle ran out of gas. Looking at the distance, it was still a long way to my grandfather's house. At this moment, a kind man who was also riding a motorcycle saw us, stopped the car, and asked us what happened? Is there anyone who needs help? My father said: My motorcycle is out of gas, but it is still a long way from my home... My father explained the matter again, and the kind man said to my father without even thinking about it: "I just said I just added some oil, so I’ll share it with you. So he pumped some oil from his motorcycle and my dad asked him how much it would cost? But he said he didn’t want money. When people are in trouble, always help them. Do people help just to get paid? “But you can’t use your oil in vain,” my dad said. The kind man said, no need, then got on his motorcycle and left. At this time, we can't even say thank you to ourselves, we can only say "thank you" from a distance.
The cleaner’s obscurity and tolerance; the kindhearted person’s helpfulness made it possible for us to get home smoothly. These two scenes are small things in life, but in my mind they are beautiful scenes. Eternal Landscape Lyrical Prose 2
There is boundless green on Mingyuan Road, and the sycamore trees accommodate this land with their vast and vast feelings.
They stand side by side and hold hands, seeming to give them infinite strength. Their branches squeezed each other and were silent. They are like a giant, with more hands than the Thousand-Armed Avalokitesvara, holding up broad leaves, spreading shade to the world. It is not difficult to imagine that they have been standing here motionless for decades.
In the early morning, when the faint dawn shines on the land and bursts of mist, like fairies wearing gauze, shuttle between the trees, they have woken up early. They are tall, straight and majestic, with several powerful arm-like branches extending out from the middle of the trunk, spreading the dense leaves like a big umbrella. His whole body exudes a majesty that makes people dare not look at him.
At dusk, a brilliant rouge appeared in the sky. The sycamore tree seemed a little tired, making no sound, leaning low against the branches, looking lazy and peaceful. The gorgeous brilliance of the sunset pours generously on the trees, making them even more dazzling, like a golden auspicious cloud, suspended in the dusk.
At night, when the city no longer shines brightly, street lights begin to illuminate the darkness of the night. The dim street lamp shines on the sycamore tree, which is scratched to pieces by the branches of the sycamore tree, and the dim light shines faintly on the road. The bright moonlight shines on the sycamore trees, reflecting the light of the street lamps. It passes through the sycamore trees, as if fragments of moonlight are scattered all over the ground. This is like a green tunnel carved out by the plane trees. The sycamore leaves reflect the glowing green light and extend endlessly forward, seeming to be trying their best to remove all obstacles and open up new roads for us. It gives people a sense of kindness and peace that is different from the early morning.
They have always been silent. They have been silent for decades, and maybe they will continue to be silent. They were old and weak and silent, protecting the land with their stiff backbones. Their branches are still extending and stretching, as if they want to continue to protect this beloved land with their broad hearts.