A composition about describing scenes.

What spring looks like

What color should the wind be? I hadn't thought about this problem before. Does the wind have color? What color will the spring wind be? With this question, I started looking for spring colors.

A poet used twelve words to describe the difference between the desert and Jiangnan: "Iron horse, autumn wind, north of the Great Wall; apricot blossom, spring rain, Jiangnan." In the desert, Gobi, gravel and yellow sand stretch as far as the eye can see. The wind in the desert is straight, blowing wildly, and seems to have endless power and perseverance, just like an iron horse in the desert, constantly galloping and running tirelessly. On the contrary, the style of Jiangnan is completely different. The wind in the south of the Yangtze River is soft, like the jade arms of a beauty, like a veil blowing on the face, elegant and sentimental. Jiangnan's wind understands the mood very well. It is a piece of light music, and I am intoxicated without realizing it.

The wind in Jiangnan is a symbol of hope. The wind wakes up the fields, greens the countryside, revives all things, and invigorates people who love spring. The spring breeze always comes with the spring rain, don't say it's annoying, and don't complain about the messy hair on your forehead. The rain in the south of the Yangtze River lasts for several days at a time, lingering and entangled, like lovers in love, who can't be separated even if they want to.

Spring breeze, spring rain, red flowers. It's spring, and the flowers that have been silent for three seasons finally can't help but feel lonely. Their fragrance is ready to bloom, and they are showing their beauty against the green leaves, with a slightly open smile. The red core and pink petals attract a group of flower pickers, buzzing bees, hovering butterflies, and people who appreciate the spring - all groups who love spring. The spring breeze brought rain, so the water in ponds, rivers, and lakes rose. Placed by the lake, "the spring breeze blows a pool of spring water", it is very vivid. The spring water all over the lake fluctuates slightly, like the sound of a flute player. Each wave beats a note, forming a picture of spring green waves on the spring river.

The spring rain is still moistening the ground, and the wind still gently slides across my cheeks. At this time, a poem from the Song Dynasty came up, "The fallen flowers are independent, and the swift swallows fly together." There is a season for trees, and a spring for flowers. When they bloom brilliantly, it is also the day when the redness of the flowers fades. Please don't feel sad, even if it's a little bit. , everything is natural. "The falling flower is independent, and the swift swallows fly together." I kept chewing these two sentences. The blue waves are rippling in front of me, and the hazy spring rain lingers into the lake; perhaps, from time to time, a few swallows fly by the lake, calling for friends; the flowers are carried by the wind and rain, falling red all over the ground, bidding farewell to their blooming flowers early stage. . . . . Yes, now, where is the beauty in the words? Where is the beauty? The mountains and rivers in our eyes are far away, and the falling flowers and wind and rain are even more damaging to spring. Looking around, I am the only one enjoying the spring.

The road in the morning is unusually quiet, but there is a lot of excitement. What is quiet is the crowd, what is lively is nature. There was no one else on the road except me pushing a bicycle. At this time, a bird on a bare tree caught my attention. On the top of the tall tree, it was a bird chirping loudly. Was it calling for friends? Are you singing an inspirational song? Or are you still feeling sad about being lost? What I'm left with is endless speculation.

Green poplars and fragrant grass grow along the embankment, and lonely willows bloom in March to welcome the spring. With the advent of spring, the withered willows that have been sleeping for a winter have begun their path to recovery. The green skirts are dancing in the misty spring breeze, and the fairy-like green leaves are delicate and pleasing to the eye. He stopped on the shore and listened carefully to Chun's words. "Twisting flowers and weeping willows on the bank, the thin road is coming again in spring." Spring is not a plaything, but how can such a beautiful scene resist the attraction of spring? Strangely, the yellow flowers on the willows were surrounded and sucked by a swarm of bees.

The sun slowly raised its head, the dew on the trees slowly receded, and the dew on the grass looked crystal clear under the sunlight. Transparent. Songhuli has begun to gain some popularity. The hard-working cultivators have begun the work of cutting grass and fertilizing. Photographers are working hard to preserve every spring moment for eternity. Couples on the road are talking and laughing and starting a love race. The number of people in the garden slowly increased. One person, two people, a family, enjoying the spring, falling in love, family love, the lake started to become lively on the shore, fishing, flying kites, riding two-wheelers... everyone went there in their own way Find your own happiness.

The lake is filled with sparkling blue waves and running water, the reflection of hanging silk on the shore and the sound of oriole, the yellow bamboos on the street are competing for heights, the clusters of red flowers are more red than the old year, and the breeze is gentle The breeze is blowing, at this moment, I am carefree and have no thoughts. In such a good situation, will the king and grandson return? When I arrived, I had the answer.