Chapter 2 Piccolo for Four Seasons: Summer

A small petal fell on the lake, only causing a circle of ripples. A little me jumped into my mother's arms, but the whole room laughed. Piece after piece, melted clouds stick to the sky; like ice cream sticking to my sister's face. My sister washed her face with clean water, and after a while, it was clean.But the sky washes his face with ink, oops, the more he washes, the dirtier it gets-it's crying! The sky must also be a girl, otherwise, where did so many tears come from? Under the leaves after the rain, there are shiny snails hidden; in the pond after the rain, there is a watery blue sky.

But why, after the rain, the land became dirtier? I asked my mother, but she smiled and said nothing, just picked me up gently from the bathtub. Yo, mother is also like the earth!A wet aroma wafted from my arms... Mom, have you ever seen a rainbow appear on its own without rain? ——You said: No. Mom, have you ever seen raindrops fall by themselves before the black clouds come? ——You said: no. Be patient, then, good mother.Wait until the dark clouds on this paper turn into rain, and when the rain clears, you will see how many beautiful colors there are in the painting I gave you! Why does the sky thunder?

My brother said: Because there are many people fighting there. My sister said: Because there are many people building houses there. I don't think it's right, so I'd better ask Dad, he'll know. However, it's best not to ask now, because - father's mouth is also thundering... When it rains, there are noises in the woods, I want to go out to have a look, but my mother won't let me go out. After the rain, I ran into the woods.Look--their little umbrella is still under the tree!But where have all the umbrella holders gone? You clearly saw me, and I saw you too.But why do you run away, little black-eyed hare?

Now, only the sunshine of June is left with me... I will become a freckled strawberry and hide in the grass in the forest until you find the scent and come and pick me up. In the summer orchard, the loquat trees are a happy percussion band.When the warm and gentle wind swayed the fruit-laden branches, the footsteps of summer sounded on the small golden maracas. A child picking loquats sits on a tree.Under the sun, his little face is as golden as a loquat fruit.Loquat tree, is it also one of your fruits?Otherwise, why does the song he hums have the same beat as your green leaf? The emerald green morning glory vines, climbing and climbing, finally touched the blue sky.

Are those small blue and white trumpets bringing the music of the morning sky back to the ground? A string of lavender bells swayed gently in the wind.What kind of mallet should I use to knock them out? Lying in the pink cradle, what strange things did Lianpeng see?The light green eyes are rounded... Is there an invisible fish living in a transparent soda bottle?Otherwise, why when I shake the bottle, there are many panic bubbles floating from the bottom of the bottle? By the way, it must be happily living in a sea of ​​soda.Now I drink its ocean, but it is still in my stomach, spitting bubbles and playing games.

The thin bamboo curtains slammed softly, and the midday sun quietly slipped into the room and lay on mother's eyelashes. Hush, be careful...don't let that little cicada scare away this bright dream... one The tall banyan tree, the dense shade, and the huge shadow of the tree, like a dark cloud, imprison the sun... But, listen: Know!Know!Who is that singing in the tree? Know!Know!Almost no pauses, no bass. Know!Know!There is only one note, but it resonates with the whole earth! Isn't it that only a life that grows up in darkness can tirelessly sing summer and light like this?

two The cricket band, in the grass in the corner, adjusts the instruments for the evening performance. The song of the weaving lady, waiting for the petals of the evening primrose, opened new words and sentences under the moonlight. However, now I still prefer to be a cicada, on a tall banyan tree, with the south wind, and thousands of leaves, singing the same note repeatedly throughout the day: know-know-know... The green pond is asleep; the lotus leaves in the pond are drooping their eyelids; the fish under the leaves are also going to sleep... But the dragonfly refused to sleep.In the microwave of the evening air, it kept paddling its four small oars made of light gauze.

Who are you waiting for, wide-eyed boatman?Excuse me, may I take your boat to the other side of the pond, where the moon rises? I am the spirit that dwells in the grass; I am the eye of a flower; I travel in the Night Queen's labyrinth; I have a lantern made of emeralds. Let me fly, child who shuts me in the palm of my hand—let me hang my lamp in the sky that forgot to light up the stars... Moonlight shrouded a silver gauze over the silent swamp.The duckweed on the water surface is covered with thin icing sugar; the long grass on the shore is shining with shining waves... Who is wearing a vest with yellow willow stripes, sitting under the grass?Why did it grin its mouth in surprise?Did you see your companion on the moon?So, suddenly jumped into the bright reflection; on the water surface, leaving only a round ripple and a happy trill: quack! ...

The grandfather who sells lotus root porridge "Tuk Tuk" knocks on the wooden board; I don't know what kind of bird is flapping its wings; another tricycle passes through the alley.In the warm wind at noon, my bamboo bed is a golden cloud, looking at the blue sky on the roof, waiting to fly. Oleander is talking to its own shadow; in the distance, sirens and frogs are intertwined and blown away by the wind.Under the starlight in the middle of the night, my bamboo bed is a silver boat, sailing through the sea of ​​fences, chasing time...