I have an appointment to read poetry in spring.

If the thunder hadn't reminded the bug that I almost forgot my date with spring, if the rainy season was too long and the earth was too busy, would I be equally forgetful? The nebula accepts the invitation from the distant sky, the kite flies out of the apartment and the cuckoo burns the mountain. Who is calling at the other end of the years? I think of the partridge that reminded me again and again before I left: I want to bid farewell to my boss in the spring, still waiting in the frost and snow, and the city that once wandered with a stack of yellow manuscript paper, some old unread books and a half-life journey of honor, disgrace, sorrow and joy ... Dragonflies went to the road together to meet a rabbit squatting on the grass and listening with their ears. The late footsteps approached ... The warm sunshine of the east wind on the lake made the birch forest green, and the storks couldn't wait to escape from the rippling reflection of Yunshan. I remembered my date with spring. The beautiful scenery and flowers reserved in my youth were just in the middle of bloom, and the vegetation sprouted on the road ahead. All my thoughts are quietly cleaned up in spring, please wait a moment …