It was a rainy morning and we were walking on a muddy mountain road. The mountain is not high, the stream flows away, and the cold wind blows on the face.

Light rain. The rain whirled in the air and hit my face tightly, cold and cold. This intermittent rain, extending into the distance, finally turned into a white curtain, covering everything in the world. We walked in the rain, so that the rain in the sky soaked every corner of our body, from head to toe, from mouth to heart, and a poem flowed in our hearts, which filled our hearts and quietly filled "flying freely is as light as a dream, and endless silk rain is as fine as sorrow".

Road. The road was drunk by the rain and drunk into mud. They snuggled up to your feet and gave you an orange kiss. Lu got drunk in the rain. Drunk as mud, unable to move forward. "How many roads are there?" We stood disappointed in the rain. This road is on the mountainside. The mountain is not high, not a tall man in the north, but a girl who grew up in this water town. The rain made the girl more comely and greeted us with a charming smile. So we were drunk, too. We abandoned the road, crossed the grass, crossed thorns, supported trees, climbed rocks and headed for the top of the mountain. The skin of the mountain is warm and emits steaming heat; The smile of the mountain is blooming, emitting a faint fragrance. This mountain is not as good as "the rooftop is 18,000 feet, just here, starting to turn to the southeast", but it is also so intoxicating.

Water. Standing on the top of the mountain, the distant town is surrounded by water. An ancient stream of water is in my palm. We all spread out our palms and let the rain gather on them. Those tiny ditches were filled up in an instant, merged into streams, streams, rivers and seas, and finally became a Wang Yang. We were all moved, and tears flowed into the sea in our hands. Do you know, standing on this mountain, we saw a sea, which is the sea in our hearts, more choppy than the real sea, and wanton Wang Yang.

The wind is blowing. "Wind, blow, shake my dull eyes into two rippling streams. I will dip my finger in your kindness in time. " I have forgotten the name of this poet, but I will always remember this poem. The wind is blowing, bringing distant chill, distant songs and distant hopes.

We stood quietly, paying tribute to the distance. This is an ordinary climb, but it is also a fresh poem.

We all say that we should always sing and live poetically.

Because this is our own song, our own poem.

Ye Zhi said, I will continue to walk and sing.