Traditional Culture Encyclopedia - Weather forecast - Please help me find a passage or article about the weather changes in spring, thank you.
Please help me find a passage or article about the weather changes in spring, thank you.
Soft, grass blowing trouser legs, the breath of spring is so close to the skin. Dewdrops stayed. They landed on the tip of the leaf and refused to slide down. And the color of spring, bright and light. Don't be too anxious, move your steps slowly, leaving a fresh trace, like a touch of paint in spring. I am afraid to disturb some dreams and whispers, or I am afraid that the fingers of spring will tickle somewhere in my heart, and I am afraid that some people and things will disturb my thoughts. Walk slowly, walk slowly. ...
two
The first bird song came from the other side of the forest, crisp and loud. It was the sound of spring, the green vibrato, which shocked my footsteps, alarmed the first drop of dew, splashed the forehead of the soil and panicked. The second birdsong is close at hand, coming from a certain direction overhead, among the leaves, in the bud, and freely along the branches. Then, the third sound, the fourth sound ... the whole forest was full of excitement.
three
Lying in the palm of spring, let the sunshine touch you so wantonly. In sparse Ye Er, the sunshine turns into gold thread, weaving dazzling patterns, hanging between me and spring. The grass has stood up and staggered, trying to express itself in the embrace of sunshine and perform a scrambling dance. In this way, the sunshine gradually smiled.
four
Next to an unknown flower, staring at everything. Look at me with grass and sunshine. Small petals, faint rehmannia. Hiding in the grass, I am not eager for competition, but inadvertently reveal the pride of spring. I looked back at Xiaohua, expecting a spring conversation with her, but her thin body was hidden in the lush bushes. A breeze blew, but she hid deeper and flashed, walking all the way out of the Woods in the green grass.
five
Outside the Woods is a river, my mother river. The river is rising, saturated with white pebbles, approaching me step by step and approaching the island full of spring. She has forgotten the cold last winter and the embarrassment of almost showing her spine. Singing softly, slowly flowing forward, with the breath of spring, reflecting the golden color on the other side of the river, so comfortable and so publicity.
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