几只野鸟从头顶白雾里飞过,隐约可见它们扇动着花色翅膀,红嘴红脚,肚子上长着好看的鳞状斑纹,仿佛中国画上水墨点染的飞禽,飞成了线条,淡淡的,轻轻的。雾渐渐退去,辽阔的湿地从梦幻中慢慢醒来,绿茸茸的草墩像一群从水里钻出来的淘气小子,顶着一头露水珠儿,手拉手曲曲折折排向岸边;微风拂过,片片涟漪丝绸般抖抖颤颤,在碧水中扩散开去,仿佛一墩接一墩的花草喘息发出的声波。平静 Few birds flew from the top of white mist, faintly visible that they fanned their wings with red beaks and red legs. They looked good on the belly with scaly markings, as if Chinese ink spots dyed birds flying into a line, faint, Gently. Fog gradually receded, the vast wetlands slowly woke up from the dream, the green grass piers like a group of naughty boy drilled from the water, wearing a dew Pearl, hand in hand twists and turns to the shore; breeze blowing Before, the pieces rippling silky shake shaking, spread in the clear water to open, as if pieced together pier flowers breathe sound waves. calm