1. Composition ""I want to try"" I want to try Life is a straight line, composed of countless trying points.

A very small bird, it has just grown feathers, and its immature-looking wings seem vulnerable.

It hid in its little nest and looked enviously at the geese flying freely in the sky.

It longs for the blue sky, the golden sunshine and the freedom to fly in the fragrant wind.

It looked at its wings and thought: My wings are too tender, I can't fly.

When I was very young, I started to recite ancient poems with my head shaking, from Qu Yuan's "The road is long and long, I will search up and down" to Li Bai's "There will be long winds and waves, and I will hang my cloud sails to help the sea."

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Maybe it’s because I like the ups and downs and catchy lyrics; maybe I’m in love with the simple beauty of poetry.

I became a girl who loves poetry.

Byron, Keats, Tagore, Ye Ning, Bei Dao, Shu Ting... Sometimes I feel eager to try, but I think I can only dream.

The blue sky and white clouds are becoming more and more tempting to the little bird. Its desire to fly is clear and gradually becomes stronger.

It has a habit of gently flapping its wings.

I started to have my own little notebook.

Always carry it with you, sometimes smelling the smell of earth in the fields; sometimes seeing a small star in the hazy clouds; sometimes throwing a stone by the river and making ripples... Every quiet moment in life

The shadow turned into a short sentence and was recorded in my notebook.

The wild goose said to the little bird: "Come out, little thing! Take out your courage, fly out and embrace the blue sky." The little bird's eyes were bright.

It's asking myself, "Can I try this?" I start stringing together some short sentences and start writing lines.

My teacher said: "Try it. Maybe you can also write poetry. How will you know if it works if you don't try it?" So I spent a long time looking for and brewing some real inspiration.

The bird is standing on the branch.

It was a sunny day.

It decided to give it a try.

Even if you fail, you still have to fall once.

It flapped its wings with a bit of timidity, faster and faster. It was no longer timid, but full of confidence and courage.

call!

In an instant, it flew up and finally flew under the vast blue sky.

After writing the last line, I couldn't hide the joy flowing in my eyes.

My first poem was finally successful.

It turns out that writing poetry is not as difficult as I thought.

Seeing my poem published in a magazine, the graffiti finally turned into type.

So, I stepped into the threshold of poetry with a smile.

Looking back at my life, I try to connect the dots.

Regardless of success or failure, the flight of a bird is always after it takes off.