Summer

Outside the window is a stretch of green, old mountains and cool inside the sky, which makes you naively feel that the outside is also a cool world. Lying on the bed, staring out of the window at the world in the sky: bright and clear blue, white clouds, and peace. The eagle is soaring proudly; The Lark is flying rapidly like a small black dot in the extremely high sky; There are six or seven waterbirds in KUER, making up a team and singing songs into your sight, the movement rhythm fan his wings neatly, and then move out of your sight all the way. There are also several active swallows flying to their distant window from time to time, passing up and down in front of them from time to time, as if they were greeting you. At night, I used to sleep early, then get up in the middle of the night, make a cup of tea and open the book, which is the most enjoyable moment of my day. Night, a clear head, physical and mental superb. Open the window, it is cool and refreshing, with the refreshing grass and soil. With the cries of night birds and night insects, I entered my inner world. Due to the attraction of the light, a moth fluttering on the screen window for a long time somehow got in through the sealed screen window. I wonder what magical power it used to get in, don’t care about it. Summer nights are mysterious. When the outside world was silent and the heart was quiet, I suddenly felt the sound of poop and poop on my head. I raised my head, Oh! A large bat unexpectedly came over my head. This really surprised me! I really wonder where it got in from? I have to take care of it. I stood up and dealt with it in vain. Later, I turned on the balcony light and the screen window as well. It was because of the attraction of the light that I invited it out. After finishing this unexpected social engagement, I went back to the table, sat down again to sort out my mood and continued my business. Summer is unbearable and beautiful; Summer night is short and magical, with quiet, pleasant, romantic, heartbeat and amazement! Praise in 2013-08-17 (prose editor: Ink drops become wounds) snow vanishing in spring

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