Modern poetry about plants, modern poetry about plants

1, "White Birch".

In front of my window, there was a birch tree, as if coated with silver frost, covered with snowflakes.

The fluffy branches, the snow-embroidered lace are chic, the bunches of flower spikes are blooming, and the white tassels are picturesque.

In the hazy silence, the jade stands this white birch, in the brilliant golden light, the traces of the feast.

Sparkling snowflakes.

The birch wandered around, and the belated morning glow made it to the snow-capped branches.

Another layer of silver brilliance.

2, "Little Grass".

I am a little grass, a nameless little grass.

Shengchang grew up on the side of the road, no one noticed, and no one appreciated nostalgia.

My flowers are not bright, silently opening the world.

There has never been a vigorous life in life, and no one will be amazed.

straightened his waist and behaved, and he was not afraid of wind and rain.

The wind blew my waist, and even if I was crawling on the ground, I could still stand up and grow.

I grew up by the river, the gurgling water played music for me, and the trickling stream sang to me.

Listen to the mandarin ducks playing in the water, and watch the swans and anthuriums and green waves.

I am a small grass, maybe living on the hills, maybe growing on the slopes.

I am still lush on the cliff.

I'm still standing tall in the rocks.

I stood on the hill and watched the eagle spread its wings and listened to the singing of the birds.

I'm on the beach, I'm in the saline.

The harsh conditions have forged me to be upright.

I grew up by the sea, watching the angry waves crashing on the shore and listening to the waves singing.

Watch the seagulls soar and listen to the petrels hitting the waves.

1."Strawberry".

Hey, my strawberries are almost ripe.

As a result, the strawberries went bad.

However, a new strawberry has grown.

My impatiens and eggplants are growing very well.

I hope my eggplant will grow an eggplant soon.

Take it off for me and eat it. Suspicion of infiltration.

I also wish my impatiens were growing a little more luxuriantly.

I hope my strawberries don't go bad again.

I want it to grow more strawberries, just fine.

2, "A Grass".

It's far easier to be a plant than a human.

You can feel the sunshine and rain.

All day long, I just need to figure out how to grow taller.

No one is hypocritical and sophisticated.

If I had to choose, rice would be preferred.

Accept the love of farmers.

From sowing to fertilizing, from pest control to harvesting.

The process of life is simple.

Always be in the company of concern or reverence.

It is also possible to make a tree that blossoms and bears fruit, and with sincerity from the soul, receive expectations and blessings.

Even if it's a single grass, and countless grasses.

From bright green to withered yellow, there is no need to go to the world.

The winding path is a trap that cannot be detoured.

You see, how free it is to be a plant.

More casual, relaxed, and happier than the current rent promoters.

Kiss Modern poems describing plants: "Wheat": Father's June, the field is golden, sometimes rolling up rows, pushing the surging waves, I have smelled, the surging wheat fragrance, that is the wheat when the flowers, the latent alluring atrium, no ostentatious color, lack of beauty and pretty, but like my father, from the solemnity of the brilliance, the wheat is covered with yellow, that is a mature force of the omen, what I see is, a dazzling wheat mang, maybe that is, the seed into the soil when the swelling, Through the layers of soil, standing on my father's broad shoulders, looking at the past, it was a sea of golden instructions, my father's years, such vigorous growth, flowers blooming and falling, all bring people a kind of yearning, the crooked sickle, is the father's crooked backbone.

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