Text/Zhang Fuxian Photo/From the Internet
The spring girl took a brisk step and walked through the field, and the field became lively. Cuckoos soar in the fields, urging people to sow hope quickly; bees diligently serve the smiling flowers, harvesting fragrant pollen and making sweet honey; swallows stand on tall telephone poles, combing their black feathers, whispering and affectionately. The fields are in the spring, and the spring fields are beautiful.
On the side of the road, on the riverbank, pieces of delicate rape flowers release a rich floral fragrance. She swayed in the wind, like flowers and branches, a young girl dressed in green silk, holding a golden tidbit in her hand, desperately waving her arms to me, telling the touching story of spring.
"Suddenly like a spring breeze in the night, thousands of trees and pear blossoms"; light-colored pear blossoms are hung with branches, and the turquoise leaves reflect each other, the white is pure and lovely, the green spring is full of spring; a breeze blows slowly, and the air is filled with a faint sweet pear blossom aroma, refreshing and intoxicating. I was immersed in the ocean of pear blossoms, under the fragrant pear tree, as if drinking a pot of aged wine, the aroma was fragrant, and I couldn't bear to let go.
Peach Blossom smiled, and on her bright red face, she grinned with a pink red lip, which reminded me of the young and beautiful bride, who blushed in the red candlelight, and on her pretty red face, a fiery red peony bloomed.
A breeze blew through the peach forest, the petals fell, and a "red snow" flew in the wind, and it seemed to fly with the fiery red feathers of the cuckoo bird, falling red everywhere.
"Falling red is not a merciless thing, turning into spring mud is more protective of flowers"; peach blossoms dedicate youth and beauty to the earth, to spring, to the field, to the human world, even at the dusk of life, to the age of wind and candles, do not forget to make the last dedication to the earth, rather than make me sigh?
The spring wind in February cuts out the new leaves of the green willow, the willow silk is yiyi, like the hair of a young girl swaying with the wind, the weeping willow is reflected in a stream of clear water - small bridges, flowing water, lotus leaves, and weeping willows, green lotus water, willows dragging spring wind, who can say that the scenery of the northern fields is inferior to the southern country?
Cooking smoke is thick and rising again; under the oblique sun, in the smokey wind, the spring wind chases the golden sun, frolicks in the sun, dances in the sun; the weeping willow branches are bathed in cooking smoke, bathed in the sun, bathed in the habit of the wind, like a woman with spring, sitting on a boat in the Qinhuai River, looking down and meditating, waiting for the long-desired person, combing her hair with a breeze, combing her full hair, and folding her into a turquoise bun for her. I stood in the sunset, in the shade of the willows, in the smokey wind, and let the willows slip off my shoulders. I wanted to fold a bunch of willow branches, but I didn't know who to give it to, and I couldn't help but laugh.
On the side of the road, a group of vegetable farmers gathered in the evening market. Piles of red tomatoes, baskets of emerald green elm money, green cabbage, bales of turquoise celery... Stacked on tricycles on the side of the road. "Emerald cucumbers are cheap!" "Red taro, sweet red taro!" "Green kale! Stop and take a look. "Green onions are at a big sale, a big deal!" Shouts and trumpets echoed over the fields.
In the distance, an old man herding sheep, holding a flock of sheep in his hand. The sheep graze quietly on the grass, the blue sky, white clouds, goats, green meadows, and the green goats wander on the green grass under the sunset.
A few lambs scurried out, nibbling on the green wheat field next to the grass, and the old man waved his whip in his hand and drove away this one and the other.
The anxious shepherd waved his long whip, and a whip was drawn on the head sheep, and the head sheep hissed "and roared" and led the sheep forward. The old shepherd who chased them accidentally stumbled on the dirt and almost fell... The girl in red who passed by the grass stopped to watch the sheep scurrying around, and she couldn't help but smile.
Thus, the sky above the field rippled with the laughter of a young girl, like a brass bell playing, like a yellow warbler crying. Crisp! Sweet! Beautiful! charming! My hometown is in the fields of this spring, full of smoke and sunshine, full of longing and hope.
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 Chinese original novels, who has written the novella "Auspicious and His Partners", as well as short stories, miniature novels, essays, and poems, totaling millions of words, and his works are scattered on various online platforms.
One Point No. Selected Works of Zhang Huifeng