"I awake light-hearted this morning of spring, everywhere round me the singing of birds", what the ancients said is true. The morning light appeared in the sky, and the sound of kingfishers outside the window woke my ears. Listen carefully, spring seems to have sound.
Pigeons on the windowsill, with tiny feet, rustle on the awning, and with the sound of beeping, always get into the window. The turtledove in the field vibrates the forest and breaks the morning breeze, which declares its unique existence. Those magpies who often come, unwilling to lag behind, are prancing and chirping among the branches of old eucalyptus trees, although the sun has not come, although the spring is chilly.
people downstairs are calling and talking. Footsteps, the sound of wheels, vibrations, mixed with approaching shouts, are brewing in the slightly cold air, "a year's plan lies in spring, and a day's plan lies in the morning."
As in the past, the plane roared by itself, carrying passengers from the south to the north, and walked into the repetition of silence after the year, or lively exultation. When the Lantern Festival is over, the year is over. Year after year, year after year, we hastily converted time into years. Remember the past and look forward to tomorrow.
On the construction site, the workers who have already started work have issued a loud "work number". The roar of the machine, the collision of objects, and the high pitch of the chainsaw perfectly matched the roar of the condor overhead, which was equal and seamless, and completely woke me up.
when I walked into the garden, my eyes were fresh. "Last night, it rained for a moment, and it was Su Qun's fate.". Peach blossoms are burning, "rainy and red and charming"; Pear blossoms are full of flowers, "it is cold and light after rain, but fragrant and soft before the wind". Clover shoots new branches and shoots; Qilixiang, new green cluster, bud cluster. Approaching, standing, and concentrating, it seems that I heard the flowers bloom and the buds come out. When a gust of wind comes, peach blossoms can't help flying, falling into grass and vegetables. Gently satisfied, silent, the branches faintly floated with a slight sigh, and my heart was clearly full of pity.
A pigeon whistle sounded, and the cousin next door was releasing his beloved. The familiar formation, through the morning light, through the morning breeze, draws an elegant arc in the air; That kind pigeon whistle, through the sky, through the four seasons, in spring, wake up our ears again.