The sky of your hometown

　I stood still in front of the window, looking at the sky in the city shrouded in gray smog, and I always thought of the sky of my hometown.

The spring sky in my hometown is blue and high. In early spring, the peach blossoms in the fields are brilliant, like a cloud of color falling on the field. The wheat seedlings in the wheat field are slender and dense, green and furry, extending into the sky into the distance. At this time, the sky is like a vault, covering the fields and villages. The clouds are like a leaf sailboat, floating in the blue sky. Children run in the wheat fields, taking advantage of the east wind to put kites into the sky. Kites fly with birds in the deep, transparent sky, a scene that resembles a painting carefully painted by a painter.

The morning sky of my hometown is pure and close. I reclined on the wooden bed and slowly opened my sleepy eyes. The dawn is like a stream of refreshing and clear waterfalls soaking through the glass windows and slowly flowing in the room. The shimmering light outside the window is like a fusion of dream and reality. At this time, the sky was so close to us that it seemed that we could touch it as soon as we reached out. Or that we are like egg yolks, and the sky is like egg whites, gluing us into one with it. A flock of birds and finches flew around in the air, like swimming fish swimming in the blue waters.

The night sky in my hometown is colorful and magical. The stars are like flowers blooming in the air. A group of children play hide-and-seek in the village alley, hiding in the wood stacks for a while and hiding in the corner of the wall for a while. You chase me, and the laughter and noise echo under the stars. The grandmother sat on a bamboo mat in the courtyard and shook a fan and counted the stars with the children. She pointed to the glittering Milky Way and told the children the story of the cowherd weaver girl. It was as if a pair of wings suddenly grew on the shoulders of the children, and in an instant they took off into the air and flew through the vast universe.

My favorite is the dusk sky in my hometown, magnificent and gorgeous. Hard-working people came home one after another from the fields, and the fields became empty and silent. Gray-white cooking smoke rose from the low chimneys. At this time, the sky is like a vast and boundless stage, and the sunset and clouds dance in the air. Yunxia is like a fairy woven into a beautiful embroidery, colorful. The orange-red sunset is like a burning flame that fades in the sky, and the night is like a gray light veil covering the earth.

When I am old, I want to live quietly and quietly under the sky of my hometown. I would keep a few sheep, herd sheep on the grass on the riverbank during the day, lie on the ground and look up at the sky when I was tired, sleep whenever I wanted, and sing whenever I wanted. As the sun sets, I wave my whip on the riverbank of the sunset and return with the sheep in the sunset