Poetry about the land

The poem about the land is as follows:

1, spring returns to the earth

The sun shines on both sides of the Huaihe River, the wind blows the endless wheat fields, the green is rippling under the feet, and the white clouds are walking slowly in the blue sky. It is no longer a dream to have a home. Prosperity is not only the Tang Dynasty, but also the urban and rural areas with red leaves and plum blossoms. I stood under the magnolia tree and watched the prosperity of a tree. I know that purity is not only the appearance of spring, but also the inner voice of insects in spring.

2. My Running Earth

It is a wind, a cloud, a spring without footprints, a sky without footprints. I am an iris with wings, inciting the direction of the river and chasing it gently, like sunset, like love, all colors.

Obviously, every minute is in my gasp, which leads to the grain frog hanging obliquely at the end of my eyes after the heavy rain. At this moment, I am running on the earth.

3. The Earth

When blackbirds beat the black night sky, when the tired morning sprouted in my heart, when dusk passed through your blood vessels, pale vilen was naked, and the air was turbid and soaked your flesh. I saw your loneliness and sadness. The withered wheat straw fluttered in the wind, and you lay flat, letting the wind and rain beat your beloved wheat ears and parted ways.

4. The Earth

What can wash away your filth? The land, the ancient ones and the babies held high the banner of a vast world yesterday, and came to the end of the four seasons with immature steps. The immature figure grew into windbreaks, leaving a string of green Great Walls and rings that rotated like ripples, and married a red heart of love to the land and the earthen houses.

I love this land deeply.

There are footprints left by ancestors on this land. They once lived in this land and defended it with their lives. They walked the last moment of their lives in this land. They used to write history with their own experiences. The back they once knew was buried by the years, leaving only the short hills that people miss, and our footprints are also left on this land.