Morning of the community

On Saturday morning, I came to the garden of the community. When the grass in the garden turned green, the grass sneaked out of the soil, revealing a tender green head, and the grass was covered with crystal clear dew, like a small pearl. On the verdant leaves.
The white plum blossoms opened, and a spring breeze blew through, giving off a faint scent. The peach trees in the distance also bloomed with pink flowers, just like the clouds under the blue sky. The cuckoo sang in a joyful song on the branches: "Bugu, Cloth, Spring is coming, Spring is coming." The old people listened to the crisp cry and exercised in the warm sunshine.

Morning of the community

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