Lyrical prose describing spring, prose describing spring

Spring must have been like this, from the green and restrained mountain, a handful of snow can no longer hold on, poof, the cold face will be smiled into a flower, a song will be sung from the clouds to the foothills, from the foothills to the low deserted village, singing into the hedge, singing into the yellow webbing of a duckling, singing into the soft spring mud, soft as a bed of freshly turned quilt spring mud.

So delicate, so sensitive, but so chaotic. A thunderbolt can provoke the clouds that cry all over the sky for no reason; A burst of cuckoo crying can fight a city of azaleas; A gust of wind rises, every willow is also a white and vast, fluttering, can't say clearly, can't hear can't hear clearly, every trace of flying flocculent is a willow semicolon, anyway, spring is so unreasonable, illogical, and can still be so good that people can be calm.

Spring will inevitably be like this, full of pond leaves and flowers of the dead stems to the death of an old root, the beams of thousands of houses in the north are disturbed by the wind and snow and still gently hold a small empty nest. Then, suddenly, one day, Peach Blossom captured all the mountain villages and waterways, and the willow tree controlled the royal ditch and the folk river. Spring is like a bright banner of the king, beautiful because of long-term pious hope and prayer.

And about the name of spring, there must have been such a story: before the "Book of Songs", before the "Book of Songs", before the Cangjie characters, a lamb suddenly felt juicy when gnawing grass, a child suddenly felt the soaring when flying a kite, a leg suffering from wind pain suddenly felt comfortable, thousands of pairs of plain hands on the stream, on the pond, on the riverside of the hand suddenly felt the blood of the water... As they ran to each other in amazement, they decided to pout their mouths in the shape of whistling and name the season with a pleasant whisper:

Spring". Birds can begin to measure the sky again, some are responsible for measuring the blueness of the sky, some are responsible for measuring the transparency of the sky, and some are responsible for measuring the height and depth of the sky with that wing. And all the birds are not good mathematicians, they squeak and calculate, and nucleus, and finally do not dare to announce the statistics.

Bees go to cataloguing. All the trees, leave it to the wind to pamper. And the wind, the old wind chimes in front of the eaves to remember one by one, one by one.

Spring must have been like this, or, somewhere, it still is, right? Through the chimneys of the Black Forest, I wanted to visit the spring that lingered in the middle of the ages.

Spring prose masterpiece 1: "Spring in Beiping" Zhou Zuoren.

Spring in Peking seems to have begun, although I don't think much of it yet. Ten days have passed since the beginning of spring, and now it is the beginning of sixty-nine and sixty-three, and the cloth sleeves are spread on both shoulders, and the poor should have the meaning of prosperity. Guangxu Jiachen is in 1904, when I was in the Jiangnan Naval Academy, I wrote a poem

After a year, the scenery is so tight. 100-year-old is good, urging people to do their best. If it is not a large tsubaki, it should be like a fungus.

Once the dead are alive, where to ask the spirit to be stupid. ”

Spring Essay 2: Yang Shuo's essay "Spring on the Gobi Desert".

It's the end of April. In Beijing, this is a good season for flowers to bloom. But on the Gobi Desert, the solar term is still early.

As soon as you get out of Jiayuguan, you can look at it, your eyes are full of boundless sand and gravel, and there are only clumps of camel grass everywhere, which slightly reveals a little green. There were whirlwinds everywhere, one by one, rolling up the yellow sand as high as it was like smoke rising from the flat ground, and it was running around the desert. Saying that the sky changes, the wind blows, and snowflakes float in the air.

Immediately to the southwest of the Gobi Desert is the undulating Qilian Mountains, which are also covered with snow on dog days.