Here comes the goose.
Yes, in the distant sky, two rows of beautiful geese, flashing their wings, crossed the white clouds and came to my hometown. I reached out my hands and wanted to hug them and kiss their long-distance wings. However, they flew over my head, flew far away, flew to the horizon, became small black spots, disappeared, and the geese flew away. Goose, where have you been? Their winter place is a cave. Is it the beach? Or a dense forest? Goose, how many beautiful patterns have you woven and how many fantasy seeds have you sown in the fields of northwest Shandong?
That winter, I was on the bank of Daying River on the border of Yunnan, as warm as spring. The river is as transparent as a mirror, and clusters of delicate bamboos, like girls, steal their own shadows in the mirror. Yesterday, Mashan people sang folk songs, and Mrs. Chang hammered a sickle. A group of Dai girls were carrying newly harvested millet and walking on the quiet path leading to Zhulou and Daqingshu.
Suddenly, flocks of geese, giggling and circling, flew from the beach by the river, flying higher and higher, dyed the sky red and covered the valley. I shouted like a child:
"Wild goose! So you spend the winter here. "
How many years of mystery, how many teenage dreams, I suddenly woke up and opened my ecstatic eyes. Vast motherland, beautiful frontier! I think I have traveled a lot, but my motherland! You still have a lot, I don't know, I don't know.
Goose! When did you fly from the north? Did it pass over northwest Shandong? Have you seen my little village? Have you washed the dates? Have you finished picking cotton? Is the ear of grain or the seed of corn hanging under the eaves? Is the shepherd boy at the foot of Qinling still reading? Are the fishermen in the Yangtze River still singing the Three Gorges? goose ...
A year later, I was in the field of my hometown, and the northwest wind came to my hometown with the breath of Mongolian grassland and the cold of northeast forest. My sister-in-law and my brothers are busy peeling cotton peaches. Pupils walked out of the school gate and flew to the harvest field. Poplar trees are singing, scattering golden leaves on people's heads.
Coming, geese! On the distant horizon. Under the blue sky, in the eyes of many people laughing, you flew to my hometown again. You have brought greetings from Mongolian grassland herders and thoughts from loggers in Daxing 'anling. My family are all saying hello to the goose.
Goose, how many times have you flown here? What meadow is your post office? Have you ever drunk the water from the canal? Have you seen the newly unearthed saplings? Have you heard the new children's songs made up by dolls?
Please fly from here more often in the future. The flowers here are redder and there is more water. You have to hear what pace my hometown will take towards a bright future. You should bring the laughter here, the singing here, the construction scene here, and the warm greetings from my villagers to the frontier. Talk about the clear flowing water of Daying River, the Chang sisters, the Han people on horseback in the past, and ask them to sing the progressive voices of northerners into their folk songs.