The handsome beard of corn is floating in the wind, and I wish the autumn wind would send me a word: Go back to my hometown and stay, eat a few mouthfuls of corn paste, chew a few corn cobs, or pull a few corn Ye Er, so that my mother can make a pair of shoes for the New Year.
How long can you wait after receiving this message?
Huang Chengcheng's corn kernels, like pearls, are piled in the corner, between lips and teeth, in mom's huge rice basket, scattered in rice fields, and planted wherever they want. I can clearly hear its cheerful singing.
paddy field
On the battlefield in Huang Chengcheng, your mind is too heavy, so lower your noble head. Maybe too much and too deep is the reason for your modesty?
Only by looking up to your self-cultivation and virtue can you tolerate a little bit of vicissitudes and confusion in your heart and get rid of your self-righteous madness.
Sweet potato-free
I believe you are blue Smurfs, driving on the road I pass every day. Slightly fragrant, lightly blooming.
Your unique blue color, so striking among all kinds of herbs, has attracted the attention of many pedestrians.
Can you be so brilliant when you open a greenhouse by yourself?
Nature can contain all the real beauty in the world.
See different you, colorful and graceful. It turns out that every flower is a kind of mind, and every flower is a realm.
wild goose
Very high, very high. The voice of a wild goose awakened the dream of an old friend.
The skins of those old cows have been dried in the village these days. Farewell geese, herringbone patterns, word for word, chic and calm colors, covered the whole sky. If I am like a wild goose, can I abandon all my collections and hypocritical equipment and travel with you?
Raise your eyes and call the goose, lower your head and think. The morning is as faint as yesterday.
night
The glee club has started. Listen to the autumn wind rustling by the window. Look at all the lights.
It is late at night. Hold your breath and listen. Cricket, the god of songs and the soloist of the night, like our old friends, always sing the best old folk songs around us. It is the hustle and bustle of life, the sigh and consciousness of life.
The round stage at night is full of moonlight. The poet God, the only conductor, is the master of the world soul.
The old cough of the night watchman touched the passion and desolation of the night. Lend me a few seconds tonight, will you Wandering in the center of the night!