Sending away the year when the gongs and drums were loud, the breath of spring floated leisurely, like a kitten's milky white fluff, brushing my ears crisp and tender, scratching my already eager heart with waves; It is also like a vibrant seed. It broke through the ground in people's hearts and took root silently.

Early spring is a little shy, like a girl who has just grown up, reserved and youthful, leaning against the door and looking back, smelling childhood. A year of great fanfare and popularity will bury her in the gap of time.

Unless you are a lonely hermit and a keen poet, it is difficult for ordinary people to open the cocoon of old customs, approach the gap and enjoy the slightly leaked spring in the busy year of 2008. I can't help laughing at myself. I am still a layman.

Going out for an outing is mostly in March, except for the warm weather in March, when peach blossoms begin to bloom. It is also because February, just after a busy year, needs a period of time to recover, and the vision is pulled away from the customs of the year and turned to the natural changes of heaven and earth.

Just like a person retiring from a bonfire party, nesting in his room, quietly facing the night scene outside the window, under the cover of the night and lonely licking, slowly recovering his perception and understanding of the present. This is especially true for solitary creatures, and I happen to be one of them.

After all, I recovered, so I eagerly opened my senses and let them soar under the spring sky.

I always thought that the overall temperament of spring was quiet. This quietness is not loneliness in winter, nor metallic coolness in autumn.

It is a kind of silence that implies vitality, and it is a kind of silence full of green eyes. As if you were in a faint valley, there is a fluffy spring in the valley, and the fog is lingering, and the gurgling spring water gushes out all day. And spring, also the heart of the earth, spews out the morning sun-like breath day and night.

This kind of breath, let the wind send a journey, let the rain send a journey, and then settled lightly in the countryside, towns and Shan Ye, infiltrating into the texture of mountains and rivers. Just like an ancient harp, the sound of spring strings is gently gathered and slowly twisted into the world.

In the empty mountain, accompanied by lingering spring rain, the snow on the mountainside melted, and the silent birds were awakened. Rows of laughing streams were written in the mountain stream, and wild petals chased the tinkling sound of running water and rushed to Shan Ye with slightly green vegetation.

Tanobe uses dripping spring rain as the hammer and brilliant loess as the chin, knocking and colliding day and night, making melodious sounds spread all over the hard soil, reaching into the soil like roots, and awakening sleeping grass seeds.

Caozi woke up from her dream, tried to arch her body and look out, and finally broke the last layer of tissue paper, ushered in a rich spring.

In the city, it moistens the cold air, condenses dew on the wall, pours spring water into clothes to be dried, and promotes rusty flowers to bloom in the delicate place of old furniture.

Looking out of the window, the tall buildings that used to be just cold and vulgar also have a trace of artistic conception. Suddenly I feel that those proud reinforced concrete are also spiritual trees planted in fairyland, filled with milky fairy fog all day long.

People walking in the street, with a head of wet water vapor, are angry for no reason. Suddenly I saw the bushes on the roadside, green and lush, as if they were coming out of oil paintings, so happy and comfortable, sucking rain from all directions.

So I abandoned this ridiculous worry and thought I was a smooth fish, swimming in the pool water saved in spring and enjoying myself.

Over time, living in spring, breathing in spring, people are also contaminated with a trace of spring. That kind of breath rises from the inner weather and reaches out to the corner of the sky.

As a result, the muscles of the spirit began to have strength. Sowed land is being cared for more and more; The uncultivated wasteland is also ready to try.

I watched quietly and danced with this inner breath to see what kind of glass world it would create for me.

Thanks for your support.

May the rest of your life be influenced by ink.

Author: Mo Zhi, a graduate student of business administration in 985, a post-95 girl, continues to share beautiful meditation for you! His works have been published in American and provincial newspapers such as Philosophy and Vanilla Garden. I love to explore the truth of life, like literature and yoga. I drink tea, plant flowers and raise fish when I have nothing to do, and be a creator who expresses life with literature.