On the horizon at dusk, the sun plays with the colors of the clouds, gently scattering the richest blue of the cornflower petals. On the wet grass, spring awakens forgotten memories, half lonely and half sad. Who played the spiritual music, and the watery notes gently passed by the ears; who played the rain rhyme, and slowly attracted the gentle smoke-like raindrops from the sky. Chunyu used its dexterous hands to weave and weave beautiful pictures one after another. Look, it's like cow hair, like flower needles, like fine rain, floating on the trees. The trees greedily sucked this sweet milk, suddenly became more energetic, and swayed the branches in the wind, thanking the arrival of the spring rain.
