After visiting Shenzhen Bay last week, this morning I suddenly felt the urge to take a walk by the lake in our neighborhood.
Usually, when strolling along the lakeside, I only hear the birds' calls but rarely catch sight of them. Today, however, was different. As dawn was just breaking, the air was already filled with birdsong from all directions, and every now and then a bird would skim across the water's surface.
I spotted two black-crowned night herons, gliding low over the lake at times, and at others landing gracefully on the shore. Across the water, on the branches of the opposite trees, two striking great egrets stood out vividly, their pure white forms glowing.
Deep in the bushes and among the branches, a chorus of calls rose and fell — the cheerful chirping of sparrows, and the clear, melodious songs of red-whiskered bulbuls — yet try as I might, I couldn't catch a glimpse of their lively figures.
The lake's clear water mirrored the swaying silhouettes of trees and the quiet outlines of houses, everything peaceful and beautiful.
In that moment, it felt as though the whole world held only the gentle breeze, the birdsong, and the shimmering light on the water — pure, boundless contentment.
Mornings like this are truly something to cherish and crave.
