One.
spring
Robert mccracken
Today is the day to fly bold kites.
When cumulus clouds roar across the sky.
When the robin returns, when the children cheer,
When light rain calls for spring.
Today is the day when daffodils are in bloom.
What do the children choose to fill the room?
Today is the day when the grass turns green.
When the leaves bloom, spring is coming.
Two.
April day
The days of witchcraft, subtle sweetness,
When every hellish tree finds its heart,
When spring and winter meet like lovers
At noon and in part of the mist-
In the days of April.
The night when the wood frog peeps faintly
Once-twice-and still,
The military sound of woodpeckers swept through.
Like a horn from one mountain to another-
Through the pulsating mist
On the day when the soil warms after the rain,
The shy wind crept through the Woods,
Rich in pine and poplar flavors,
The joyful earth rotates like a dancer-
Through the days of April
spring
When spring comes.
The air is fresh.
Show the beauty of nature itself
Flowers are blooming everywhere.
The trees began to sprout slowly
Open to the warm sunshine
Let the birds start singing
Touch our hearts in these ways.
The grass began to turn green.
Push up the ground.
Nature is waking up.
Make her beautiful voice.
Ken Rutherford
Poetry.
When spring showers come
A drought that penetrates winter. ...
Articles.
Spring Morning
It was an early spring morning. The sun has just risen from the eastern horizon? Emit red light through clouds and sky. Soon, the campus was bathed in the first ray of sunshine. That lake? Trees and bamboo look as if they are all plated with gold. The ground is covered with tender grass, and dew stands on the tip of the grass, reflecting the sun.
Birds are flying around in the Woods, twittering and chirping. Some boys who are absorbed in reading are leaning against the tree, and buds are exposed under the gray bark. Several female students walked up and down the gravel road by the lake, reading English aloud. There is a stream there. Form a mist.
Isn't it a beautiful morning? Full of energy and hope.
Today, look at the blue sky, listen to the sound of grass growing under your feet, breathe in the breath of spring, let the fruits of the earth linger on your tongue, and reach out and hug the person you love. Ask the soul to awaken your awareness of the sanctity of sensory perception.
This is really a miracle. No matter how long the winter is, how cold the frost is and how deep the snow is, nature will win. No season has been so eagerly awaited or so warmly welcomed as spring ... Every year, I am surprised by the richness of flowers brought to us by this season: the delicacy of wild primroses and violets, the colorful saffron in the park, the tall military tulips and the proud daffodils and daffodils.
Imagine: the air and the earth penetrate each other in the warm gust of spring; The soil is full of sunshine, and the sunshine is full of red dust. The air people breathe is full of the smell of earth, and the grass under their feet reflects the shadow of the blue sky.
Every spring is the only spring, an eternal miracle.
In the spring of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant,
Not going out is a harm and blasphemy to nature.
See her wealth and share her joy with the world.
Spring is not always the same. Sometimes, April leaps onto the mountains of Virginia in one leap-suddenly, the whole stage comes alive, tulips sing in chorus, forsythia flowers dance and plum blossoms perform solo. These trees put out leaves overnight.
In other years, spring comes. It stopped because of shyness, just like my granddaughter standing at the door, peeping in, and then ducking out of sight, giggling in the corridor. "I know you are there," I cried. "Come in", April slipped into our arms.
The tender green buds of Cornus officinalis are inlaid with yellow-brown spots. In this perfect cup, there are 20 clustered seeds. People looked at the bud in awe: where were these seeds a month ago? Apples show off the ivory silk fragments of their milliner, with a slight rose color. All sleeping things wake it up, feel it, and hold April in your hands.
If you like, look at the rue anemone, or the pea patch, or the weeds that stubbornly stretch out their shoulders through the city streets. This world used to be like this, it is like this now, and it will always be like this in the future. There is no end. Who will be afraid of the distant autumn in the quiet of spring?