The beginning of the poem highlights the theme and shows a white and quiet winter morning. The vast snow scene makes people feel the magnificence of nature. However, it reminds the author of the scene of children looking for cicadas and catching insects in the Woods in summer. Children's innocence, romance and innocence make people feel grateful.
Poetry looks back at the memory of youth through the veil of time with hazy nostalgia. Happy memories of childhood are the greatest reward for human beings as they grow older. Therefore, people often say that people are like children when they are old, because looking back on the past is a heartfelt yearning and an expectation for people to go back in time.
Now in my thirties, I feel that time is gone forever, and I often talk about the past casually. Between the lines, Mr. Ai conveys a yearning for nature and childhood, a strong emotion, and people can't help but sink into childhood. When I was a child, my hometown was closed, and I followed my father to study in northern Fujian, far from my hometown. Although my childhood memories are not complete, I often go back to my second hometown in my sleep.
In the text, he seems to be me, which I often do. The difference is that the trees in the grove near my home are not tall. Dwarf trees can easily climb up in one jump. Then, I will wait quietly on the branch, waiting for the cicada that was disturbed when climbing the tree, then settle down and sing again.
After determining the position of cicada, I will hold my breath and creep close to cicada. Keep your feet steady and step on the staggered branches. The left hand grabs the branch and the right hand quietly moves behind the cicada. I have always felt that cicadas, like people, can't see behind. However, what you know is perceptible, and it is often in vain. With a long hiss, cicadas will spill a piece of juice with the panic after fleeing, always thinking that cicadas are scared to pee.
Of course, there are times of success. Those silly cicadas are still singing proudly, but they are unconsciously led by my right hand and struggling. Looking at cicada wings to fly, bright and clean as jade. The protruding eyes are abrupt, the limbs are trembling, and the voice is sad, but it doesn't know that I'm here to catch it, and it won't pity it.
This is a classic picture of childhood achievements. At that time, a neighbor went up the mountain to work and caught a quail and took it home. When he came back, the little guy curled up in the hole in the wall and refused to come out. The neighbor didn't have the patience to catch it, so he gave it to me. I tried my best to get it at last.
Then, I often see my brother holding several strings of bugs in one hand. Braving the scorching sun, in the sun, in the grass, waving your feet to copy grass and catch grasshoppers.
Quails are also grown up through careful cultivation. Quails are clever birds. At that time, the dormitory was just a single room, not big. It's hot and dry in summer, so I spread straw mats on the ground during my lunch break. Quails always leave the mat with their tails up when it is convenient, and then defecate on the floor without polluting the mat. A bird can be so smart, maybe it is grateful. Later, because of negligence, I lost my family and felt sad for a long time, as if I had lost a good friend.
Poetry is associated with the restless Woods in midsummer from a quiet winter morning, one quiet and the other quiet. One is silent and cold white, and the other is emerald green. One is a deep morning, and the other is the rising sun. One is reality, and the other is association. Poetry combines reality with association, presenting a lively and lovely childhood, and the tenderness that is deeply hidden in the bottom of my heart and beating in my mind is actually a wonderful time.
Sighing the tranquility of poetry, time is like water, life is like a song. What ripples on the annual rings are the plough marks of the years, and the forehead is covered with the traces of time rushing by. My temples were all white, and I suddenly understood that it was the echo of my heart that left in a hurry. Life went on like this, and I didn't wait for anyone.
In fact, in the article, you can also feel Mr. Ai's faint sadness. Maybe life has given us the strength of sadness and nostalgia. The fleeting time brings people a review of the past. Between the lines, there is a kind of tie that is unforgettable. This concern is something that adults can never get rid of. Family, career, life and study can never be as carefree as children.
When people reach middle age, they are old in the world and young in the world. Family and career, family and friendship, work and life, many times these seemingly contradictory conflicts are intertwined, but they are fatal entanglement. At this age, everyone knows it's time to let go, but how easy is it when you really want to let go of your raised hands?
Mr. Ai's Snow Morning shows me the joy of childhood and the sadness of middle age. Of course, I still hope I can express myself freely and be happy.
Besides, it never snows where I live, and the temperature will never drop below zero. I don't know if this is expectation or secret joy.
If you like, you can continue reading: wait for youth calmly.