cloud The vast expanse of western mountains now clearly distinguished high and low levels in the setting sun; Normally, when looking at distant peaks, it seems that they are approaching us a lot. The gray smoke at the foot of the mountain is slowly rising and becoming thicker, also dyed with the color of the setting sun, which is probably what people have said about the clouds and mist in the mountains. wind A gust of wind blew, and the branches were swaying fiercely, emitting a "; Cluck it up; The sound of the tree seemed to detach from the trunk and be thrown into the distance at any moment. I don't know whose window has no hanging hook, and the uncontrollable window keeps shaking and bumping. Before I could speculate on the consequences, I heard&quo; Bang; With a loud bang, the glass shattered. cloud The sky is like a blue sea, the clouds are like a light boat on the sea, drifting quietly and gently, afraid of waking up the deep dreams of the sea. Large, small, white, and purple clouds, resembling faded blue cloth embedded with several patterns. That pattern looks like a goldfish, a white whale, crab claws, and a galloping horse&hellip& hellip; After a while, they collided and waved at each other, unwilling to get close and unable to bear to separate. thunder Dark clouds enveloped the sky, casting a dim glow before my eyes. Only when lightning strikes does it draw a bright light, sweeping away the dullness brought by the darkness. But after the lightning, there was a rumbling sound of thunder, which seemed to roll over the top of the head, and then with a heavy bang, it exploded, so scary. A flash of lightning flashed by, and I quickly covered my ears&hellip& hellip; fog Mist fell heavily, layer by layer pressing down on my head, my shoulders, and my chest. The mist enveloped the body, the heart, and the vision. As if in a dream, everywhere was a void and confusion, enchanting clouds dancing in mid air. On the hillside, there are groups of gentle little sheep cuddling and playing&hellip& hellip; rain The rhythm of rain drops on wutong trees and rain on lotus leaves is clear and audible. Especially the ancient music tapping on the roof tiles seems soft and resounding, as if distant yet approaching. Ding Ding Dong Dong, it seems like countless pearls are falling on a jade plate. Heavy and light, dense and delicate, little by little, like the galloping of Liszt's black and white keys, the contemplation in Yu Boya's "High Mountains and Flowing Water". The ancient qin, with its desolate rhythm, beats over thousands of tiles, improvising the monotonous charm, intermittently tapping for a rainy season.