Snow? Cloud? Willow? Flower

I’m a little confused.

I am very worried about my own state. The car is running on the highway, and I am not very concentrated. It is only more than two hours’ journey to send my son back to school. I am is really old!

Finally, I got off the highway and stopped the car. I stood by the river and looked at the pressure that made me trance in the car just now.

In the distance, TTL stood there with majesty, staring at the world, steeper and cooler than before. It was pulled up from the ground and straight into the sky, as if to engrave the cold of the world in everyone’s heart forever, it seems to push the Earth deep into the abyss.

The pale snow was piled up along each big and small ravine conspicuously, as if it were a thrilling magic symbol hanging in the corner, while the ridge was gray and bones. I know there are dense forests, but they are all imprisoned in the freezing cold. They know that spring has come, but countless stubbornness and hope can only yield and endure.

Clouds, gray and white clouds, spread around the mountain tightly and without wind. It was the suffocating flame of the Devil, which was so quiet that it was desperate. They are also woven into wide and large crowns and piled up into Nu tao. It seems that they are going to jump down and devour the whole world. They are so ferocious that people shudder.

I can’t help thinking of the cloud last night, the night of Lantern Festival. Clouds in the night, contrast the strong large pieces of dim gray and gray, quietly spreading the cold. My children and I walked in the night. Without a trace of moonlight, it was imprisoned in the bottomless black prison without a trace of strength to break free. Without the bright lights of the Lantern Festival and the loud noise, the whole world fell into the abyss.

They imprisoned the moon, the Sun and the whole world.

You lie there and look at the TTL, you must be disturbed, and the cold wind blows. Your name on the tombstone is a scar deeply engraved in my heart.

The wind was so strong that it hurried past me. I felt the gray hair power that it kept shaking my head. However, strangely, it did not shake the branches without leaves, as if it had its goal. It would go to the majestic TTL and worship in the cold Palace. There were only dozens of dead leaves from nowhere, flying in the high air. At first, I thought it was a group of black birds that could not find home. There was also wind last night. Many Kongming lantern swung in panic in the night sky, and some fell into the river before flying.

The baby asked me, “Will those people be sad if they haven’t been promoted to Kongming Lantern?”

“Of course!” I looked at him in the dark night with tears in my eyes.

However, suddenly, I saw the slope on the other side of the river, as if I had removed the ubiquitous chaotic wall in an instant.

A kind of tender and tender warmth is presented in front of my eyes. The yellow willows dotted around the slope of the plateau harmoniously are like a small group of dreamy fog, fresh like fairy tales. They are little girls who can’t wait to go to the fields in spring one by one. A piece of apricot forest is a light pink light yarn. The grass color looks close but there is nothing. I believe the apricot flower is also. If you approach them, it must be just buds that are not blooming one by one, just like the curious eyes of a little girl. Maybe there are no buzzing bees among the flowers, only the indescribable smell of spring, which is the smell of fragrant soil and the smell of grass that has just emerged, it is the taste of unblooming small flowers with sweet frankincense. There are also plants of white poplar, which is just like a bath, clean as jade, and you can even feel their rubbing upward voice from a distance. Those dark pines and cypress are also relaxed, reflecting the tender spring.

I think of the tender Willow on the street. My baby picked up a new bud and looked like gambol. Thinking of the white magnolia in the front yard, it bloomed several days ago. My baby would call me and his brother to watch it on the floating window every day. Thinking of the cherry blossoms in the small woods in the yard, there were just some flower bud. My Baby came back every day to go around to it and take a deep breath.

He is naive, such as goose yellow tender willows, such as buds with buds. I dare not become cold snow, dense gloom.

Spring always comes, although in a flash, the other side of the River sank in the ubiquitous chaos. However, Willow is there, flowers are there, and Poplar is also there.

I strode through the whole dress, facing the wind, although there were tears in my eyes.

February 27, 2021

Zan (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) remember the past, a little more youth without any regrets

Lao Gen said: I have a new idea. Draw the scene of Nangang reservoir more carefully. Let’s remember the past and have more youth…

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Running water rippling, spring is waning, fog and steam hazy. Hanging over my heart, the lingering is your shadow. There is no head to continue, but there is nothing to avoid. You always break into that door with a smile, ignorant, but full of joy. For your clear eyes, you can’t pretend to be calm and can’t hold down your heart.

You are the sincere Buddha in front of the Buddha Gate. You are sacred and dare not profane. The girl passing by feels scared at a glance. In the bottom of my heart, there is something urging me to turn around and leave your figure in my memory, greedy and lingering. You are the proud green lotus in Nantang, in the mud, but Bai Jie is flawless. At the bottom of the pool in Nantang, there are small small fish. The tail fish, born in mud and long in mud, is all dark. How dare you be close to the Green Lotus. It is only wander between lotus leaves, close far under the cover of Qing, secretly greedy for that a faint scent. You are the dream of western continent, the South Wind is warm, and the boat slowly streaks traces on the water surface. The sound of water is exquisite, but oars can never figure out the boundary of the dream. It will only be on the endless blue wave, traveling all the way west, confused and resolute.

There is wind, blowing through the sparkling waves, pulling up the light swaying of the Lotus, passing through the fansong of the Buddhist Hall, stirring my broken hair. Suddenly, he returned to the dim sky under the sunset. Accustomed to the shadow of solitude, I suddenly felt a touch of loneliness. Unobtrusive, but the silk is in the bone.

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