Text/Zhang Fuxian Photo/From the Internet
Hometown is a song of lovesickness, haunting the heart, haunting the ears, entangled, lingering; the hometown is a family article, sprinkled with foreign language, a thousand words, the mourning of thoughts, the love of thoughts.
The hometown is a beautiful picture scroll embroidered by the amorous spring girl. In March, the sun is shining brightly, the small river is babbling, the shore is purple and red, and the blue water is white and white. The vigorous willows were draped in the newly cut clothes of the spring breeze, and the skinny poplars showed a green smile. Peach blossoms are red, rape blossom slices, bees play butterflies, leisurely world. Xiaocao hurriedly poked out its head, shouted into the sun, and flew the swallow between the beams to retrieve the geese heading south. The sound of geese chirping, cuckoo chirping, singing a new poem of spring returning to the earth, spring warm flowers blooming.
The hometown is the gust of smoke carried by Mr. Xia, the red sun is scorching; it is the string of flutes played by the shepherd boy riding on the back of the ox at dusk; it is the sound of the water in the stream, the lotus leaf field in the lotus pond; it is the snoring under the green shade of the mist of the mist of the mist; it is the sound of the second aunt's twilight; it is a bag of dry smoke lit in the father's hand, and the string of smoke rings spit out of the mouth; it is the mandarin duck embroidered by the mother sitting under the grape rack playing in the water, and the seven fairies are down; it is me who looks up at the moon bend in the air, looking forward to chang'e jade rabbit under the mortal world. Oh, this passionate summer, why don't you let me deeply attach myself to my hometown and be deeply attached to it?
The hometown is the sweet dusk of autumn, and the fallen leaves after frost are dotted. After an autumn rain, on the side of the road in the early morning, there are pieces of dry grass and frost flowers; the autumn wind covers the willows with golden satin and peels off the last piece of clothing on the poplar trees; the courtyard is full of yellow and brilliant corn skewers, pepper-like lanterns hanging on the walls, red pomegranates grinning, and without shyness, revealing a mouth full of sunshine; in the fields, the harvesters are roaring continuously, and the noise is everywhere; the dreams and hopes of planting the spring of this year are sown to sow the brilliance of the early summer of next year; a layer of autumn rain is cool, and the yellow land is endless. A green smile appeared. Oh, this glorious autumn of abundance full of hope.
The hometown is covered with snow in winter, and the sun shines in the place after the snow. Autumn has just withdrawn from the stage of the four seasons, it shines on the cold winter, the first snow of winter comes, snowflakes are raised, sprinkled in the world, like goose feathers, like light smoke, fluttering and sprinkling, dotted on the withered reed bank. The sparrows huddled under the eaves, and the wild ducks burrowed into the nest. It was sunny, and under the sun, a silver chip was shining; under the eaves, dripping snowmelt dots. "Wheat cover three layers of quilts, the next year's head pillow steamed bun sleep", "Ruixue Mega Year", the sound of blessings, the birds strung together; the trees fluttered and fell snow, the sound of firecrackers crackling in the ears, the hometown ushered in a new year.
The hometown is the smoke of cooking in the small village, and the call of the mother under the cooking smoke. As the sun sets, the sunset burns the western sky red; dusk comes again, and the green willows are set with gold. The babies from school went to the creek, and the busy mothers got out of the stove. With a lot of laughter by the stream, he fished up a golden carp and plucked a fragrant jade lotus; in a moment, the aroma was so strong that he stewed a bowl of braised pork slices and fried a plate of emerald golden toads. In the smoke of the cooking, there was a call from the mother, a good painting of "Farmhouse", full of blue! Lo and behold, this can't close the spring-colored farm yard!
The hometown is a green gauze tent, laughing and singing praises for the harvest year. The machine roared, the wild pieces, the corn plants lay down, and the harvest was full of gold. On the yellow land, patches of greenery appear; among the green willow flowers, pieces of towering platforms are raised. New countryside, new atmosphere, harvest every year; new life, new concepts, well-off every day.
Hometown is my attachment and attachment to my mother, and hometown is the reluctance and longing of his wanderer. The hometown is a beautiful poem that praises the socialist motherland in the spring; the hometown is a beautiful picture that depicts the warmth of the people's hearts under the party's good policies.
About author:Zhang Fuxian, formerly known as Zhang Huifeng, is a geography teacher at Chengwu Bole No.1 Middle School in Shandong Province. Use poetry to record the joys and sorrows of life, use words to describe the good, evil, beauty and ugliness of the world; good reading, love calligraphy, to praise the true feelings of the world, to say all the unfairness of the world. He is a contracted writer of original Chinese novels, and his works are included in "Chinese Countryside", "Shi Xing Kuangyuan" and "Qingquan Record".
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