Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
crystal clear,
looming, smoky,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
into the stream,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
look around,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
There is a bridge over the creek,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
sometimes lift it up,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
like a mirage,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
Pieces of green in different shades,
Watching the outside world carefully,
like a paradise on earth,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly
The grass that just sticks its head out,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
The flowers follow the breeze,
danced lightly,
Bend it now and then,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
The stream is microwaved,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,