Winter, is the depths of winter, a long brown reeds, eager to fire.  A fire desire, mercilessly burn yourself, burn everything can burn itself.    Fire fell from the sky, lit yellow reed.  Little stars at night, to cold winter night, bringing a touch of warmth, but is more than just winter.    The sky was bright, a little spark last night, has been burning.  Burning on the water, shining with the light of day fight, uh, spectacular nature.    I do not know when, the night has quietly come.  I saw the deep blue sky, a red.  It was burning reeds, the moon submerged in the field of vision.    Blowing wind on the water, the wind sandwiched rain fell from the sky, trying to extinguish the burning reeds.  Fire descending into little stars, silent, still waiting, after the resurgence of the fire, ah, will eventually burn themselves.    In spring, early spring, at the root of the reed ashes, gave birth to a new life.  Covered on the water a little bit of green, is surviving, or new life, or is not the burning of reeds.    April 2012