In the small forest of urban effect
Green again, my grove.
Ants and flying insects in the Woods
These humble lives come with spring.
Under the soil, I heard the sound of earthworm crawling.
Knock down the mud-sealed door with a soft head
I saw a flock of goats on the grass in the grove.
Waving his long beard and bleating.
Shook my youth and soul.
A black goat came to me leisurely.
Tears of happiness hung on his face.
Spring this year
My heart is at sixes and sevens this spring.
Think for a moment about some tombstones.
Think of my childhood for a while.
My heart is at sixes and sevens this spring.
Poetry in spring is written in spring.
My poem is in spring. Leaves of grass and crowns.
This spring,
What else can I do?
Who else can I embrace spring and time with?