窗外的树在等一场雨。前几日淅淅沥沥的小雨唤它从冬日的幽闭中解放,它已经隐约地透了些绿意。这是春的召唤,是生长的呼唤,是重生的集结号。它还需要一场雨。灵巧袖珍的鸟儿在林间流泻出婉转清脆的鸣音,抑扬顿挫,随心所欲。我靠在窗前,捕捉一切微妙的变化。空气中似乎有浮尘的影子,有微妙的暗涌,有窃 The tree outside the window is waiting for a rain. A few days ago a lonely rain called it liberation from the seclusion of the winter, it has vaguely some green. This is the spring call, is the call of growth, is the assembly of rebirth number. It also takes a rain. Smart pocket-sized birds flow in the forest out of the melodious crisp song, cadence, arbitrary. I leaned against the window, capturing all the subtle changes. There seems to be the shadow of dust in the air, with subtle undercrowding and theft