237 In the summer, the planting in the field is simple, but it is slaughtered, and all kinds of scissors and iron tools are used to get fruits, just because it is too honest and spring is not a child, it is a baby to be born in April, just because it is not too hot, and there is no child-like bad temper and disgust Autumn is old, and it is as golden as the sun in the silence, but time it is a dog, using its hind legs to gouge the fallen leaves, digging the mud, digging out the old bottom of you and me, and we just don't speak, covering all the wounds, is resigned to fate, It is also extremely smart that in winter, he played cotton like a cloud, overwhelming warmth, and went door to door, with his pockets full of dry goods, in order not to starve

"The Song of Things" poem, additional prose Born as a thing new is being typed, please wait a moment,

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