《枫树上的喜鹊》
清晨，阳光暖暖地洒在枫树上。我踮起脚尖，轻轻坐在了树荫下。一阵微风吹过，树叶沙沙作响，像是在演奏一首欢快的乐曲。
正当我想起ice-cold茶水时，一双小爪子从树干里探了出来。它穿着一袭橘色长裙，圆圆的脸蛋上点缀着几片嫩绿的小花。"叮咚"一声，喜鹊扑通了一声，又蹦跳地跳到了树顶。
trees were alive, and they told sweet stories of the joy of home. Our mother tree was full of laughter as we observed this.
As the children scattered around, I saw them in their simple yet pretty wooden shoes, carefully picking up sticks and playing music in their heads. The sound was soft but clear; it wasn't like the birds we hear every day—more soothing than that.
The forest floor was lined with tiny circles of twigs. The trees seemed to dance when they heard something. They wiggled, growls, and whispered, as if singing a song without any lyrics.
It was a joyous day for everyone. The children laughed, playing games with the sticks they picked up. The trees moved around them, doing tricks that made their hearts sing along.
I saw the father tree too. He had his own way of playing music, with a gentle twinkle in his eyes. When he heard something, he would do something interesting with his fingers and feet.
And then came the happy part—when they all knew how to play these games together. They were like mini-forest spirits, making sure that each tree's song was perfect by listening closely to their neighbor's tricks.
The summer sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the枫 trees. The joy of the day spread into the forest, and no one knew where it would go.
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