It's really hot, but I can't write the hot word 20o.

Today, I played with some friends under the big tree. I really want to say to the sun, "Why don't you take a bath?" river

The fish is dying. The willow trees in the street are sick, and there is a layer of dust hanging on the leaves, rolling on the branches; The branches are lazy and drooping listlessly. The shade is not cool and there is no wind. The sun shone through the dense branches and leaves, and cast many messy spots on the ground, which seemed to be covered with a golden carpet.

The summer sun is burning, hanging in the sky like a fireball. There are only a few fine white clouds in the sky, and the leaves on the trees are motionless and there is no wind.

Butterflies and bees are hiding in dark corners. Cicada cried in the tree, "I am hot, I am hot, I am hot!" "

There are still some ants on the ground who are still busy looking for food.