Compared with the powdery snow in the north, the snowflakes in the south naturally have a different charm: fluttering and dancing with the wind, one after another like butterflies all over the sky, the sky seems to be like A pair of invisible big hands evenly decorated the earth with paint overnight. Walking into the familiar roadside woods, the old withered vines and old trees in the past have transformed into ice-clear, crystal-clear and extremely dazzling. The happy bird has long since disappeared, and the running cunning rabbit has also hid in the mysterious cave. Only the sound of “creak, creak” under his feet is clearly hitting his eardrum. At this moment, I seem to hear many literati and poets in the Tang and Song Dynasties reciting poems and inscriptions on the biggest cloud—the zenith. Thousands of trees and thousands of pear trees bloom.” Those snowflakes who were proud of the poet’s praise drilled their heads out of the clouds again, and saw my slender figure walking alone in the snow at a glance.
Walking slowly on the soft and shiny velvet, the trees covered with ice knives and frost swords seem to be fully armed fighters on standby, each with a towering chest waiting for the passing generals or kings to inspect and inspect. On this unattended snow field, I am no longer me, and the trees are no longer trees, as if we have agreed in the previous life: at this moment, here and now, we are destined to meet and know each other! I couldn’t help but grabbed a handful of snow and gently put it into my thirsty mouth to taste it carefully. A coolness penetrated my heart: Where does the snow come from? Where are you going? Who is predestined for this life and lures it to come every year as promised? These rain elves, who knows how many journeys they have gone through, how many dusts, winds and rains, forests, flowers and plants they have passed through before they turn into pure and crystal clear snow and come to my hands and enter my body? From this we can see the hardships and miracles of the Creator. A drop of water, a piece of cloud, and a piece of snow are all codes of reincarnation between heaven and earth, and are precious gifts presented to us by the wind and cloud of time. From this point of view, everything in the universe itself is a combination of divinity and poetry. If we are willing to lower our heads, everything will awe us!
The sun came out, and the white sky was blue again in a blink of an eye. The charming snows suddenly started to cry, with tears streaming down the rivers and ports. Only then did I discover the fragility of the snows. In fact, there are too many secrets and helplessness behind their brilliance! They are indeed too delicate, facing the ravages and devastation of the sun, they dare not resist in the slightest, and what they have is only inexplicable sadness, fear and even loss of shape. When the snow is fragile due to the sunlight, I can’t see purity in the snow, only snow’s pitiful and sinful ravines criss-cross on the ground.
When the wind blows, the impotent sun hides quietly in the thick clouds again, and the snowflakes fall one after another, and the snow has become a charming and soul-stirring beauty again, accepting the peace of human beings with its pure white virginity. Caress, unreservedly dedicated his tenderness and holiness.
The hares fleeing for their lives, the birds hunting for food, and the hunters scurrying forward with shotguns are all walking back and forth in the snow. At this time, the snow is as holy as a virgin, like a young graceful poet: it It captures the beauty of all things in the universe with untainted transparency and broad love, and in its embrace, all things in the universe become poetic images that are both real and illusory.
A light snowflake can never be the best decoration. Only countless snowflakes drifting in and out, can dress up the old face of the earth, and hide the old dirt and ignorant sins of the earth. Snowflakes are always walking together and hugging each other. This kind of scene is beautiful and the situation is touching. Snowflakes arrive every year as promised, always willing to dress up the four directions and eight poles of the earth. This is a great and real poetic drama, which is staged between heaven and earth every year.
I know that walking in the snow, I can’t tell which is the first snow spirit to fall and which is the last snow dancer, and I can’t tell which of them is Qin. Shi Mingyue is the companion of Han Shiguan, which one is the soul of Tang Shiqingfeng and Song Shiyu. But from the light dance of the snow, I saw hope and the cycle of life: the tall and straight green mountains all around have grown into pulsatillas, which are rugged and tragic stages in the world; The dead are so chic.
A hare came running from afar, avoiding the pursuit of the hunter, and its footprints in the snow coincided with those of me. It became a part of me, and I became a part of it. How many years must pass before such a coincidence is discovered? How many years must I reincarnate before I meet this hare?
Snow is the master of creating fate, everything looks pure in the snow, and the snow on the ground is a tear-jerking relationship!
Grab a handful of tender snow, knead it into a hard snowball, and fly out. How many touching love relationships have been drawn out by the arc the snowball crosses. The snowball that flies out of my hand will fall on the ground after a thousand years In whose hair? Snowflakes are always reincarnated between the heaven and the earth, and the snow has been drifting for thousands of years, but what remains unchanged is the holy childlike heart of human beings!
A hundred years later, the snow is still floating, hide me in the snow, I will seal your love, I will decorate and repair the barren land for you, look down for me, I will carefully mention your falling snow Skirt, holding your footprints moving forward steadily…