Weave colorful dreams
Hard-working hometown elders weave a simple and colorful life day and night with sunshine as the warp and moonlight as the weft: fertile land is woven in spring, cowbells, blooming primroses and cuckoos crying in the morning; Summer weaves green fields, frogs croak, springs sound like drums, and there is no limit to Jinsong; Autumn weaving is rich and cheering, golden rice and colorful autumn colors; Weave a silvery white world in winter, weave a jade butterfly-like snowflake with a clean heart, a jade butterfly-like snowflake. Spring, summer, autumn and winter, year after year, villagers weave colorful dreams in their unremitting pursuit, although they weave bald heads, bend over and weave buildings with a face.
Silent ancient willow
The ancient willow tree in the small village, like a silent old man, stood tragically by the roadside. How many months, how many spring and autumn, even the living centenarians can't remember your age. Your body is full of scars, which once recorded the merciless pain given by history; Your branches and leaves are lush, and you selflessly spread the coolness of green. Children who crawl and play still remember you, and old people who play chess at dusk still remember you; The porter who went to town under the scorching sun still remembers you. Now that the road in the village is going to be widened, you have finished your miserable journey. The ancient willow, the immortal statue of the devotee, is even more silent. Is this a deep expectation or a warm attachment?
Deep hometown month
The moonlight in my hometown is the kingdom of my childhood fantasy and the cradle of my growth. In the mottled moonlight, I listened to grandma telling the story of sister Chang 'e in Guanghan Palace. In the milky moonlight, I watched the beautiful scenery of "Jiangzhou Fishing Boat". On the night when the bed is lit, my mother and I learn to recite poems together, "The moonlight shines in front of the window", "The moon is full and sunny, and people have joys and sorrows" ... The full moon is short, and the innocent childhood quietly passes away in this endless cycle. Now in the end of the world, I still often miss my hometown month, where my lost childhood innocence and lingering hometown soul are as heavy as moonlight.
My hometown is my emotional sustenance and my eternal concern. The unpretentious life pictures of the old villagers, the lush and silent ancient willow trees beside the village and the bright moon in the river will always be my memory treasures that have long been dusty in my mind. A wanderer's heart is full of nostalgia.