1. The golden fields in autumn shine with the joy of harvest in the sun.
2. The field is not wild at all: it has her charm, like the flash she shed; Golden, not stingy; The softness of the wind, like her ribbon, flutters in the rice fragrance, pulling the straw, as if fireflies would come out quietly.
3. In the field, the rice is ripe, as if someone had spread a thick layer of gold on the ground. The autumn wave shakes the ear of rice, making the heavy ear of rice swing rhythmically, as if the golden mountain is sliding. Wind and waves are like moving music.
4. In early winter, the green color of Shan Ye has not faded, and a little grass tip has not been dyed yellow.
Autumn is coming, and the fields in my hometown are like a bride with heavy makeup. The earth dressed her in bright embroidered clothes.
6. The golden wind blows, the endless rice fields are like waves on the sea, and the heavy ears of grain bow their heads shyly like shy girls.
7. Autumn field, harvest field, hope field, I praise you, praise you.
8. Autumn has come, with many fallen leaves. Autumn is crisp and fruitful. How charming! Looking at the fields in spring, summer, autumn and winter, the most beautiful and attractive is the autumn fields.
9. The fields are green, but they are different: dark green, oil green and light green, neatly divided into small pieces.
10, in the field, an ear of sorghum stands proudly. Autumn wind blows, they are like handfuls of victory torches, shaking happily.
2. Field composition in my hometown Although there are no places of interest in my hometown, it is not beautiful.
But the endless fields are unforgettable. In spring, I came to the field.
The whole field smells of fresh and moist earth. Graceful willows waving green arms and dancing, floating catkins; A few lovely swallows are flying freely in the sky, chirping, as if to report peace to everyone.
In summer, the sun is shining and there is no wind in the field, which is like a steamer, suffocating. The green seedlings drooped their heads listlessly; Frogs croak at the edge of the ridge, which is even more annoying.
Autumn is like a magician, taking out a bag from his side, and the fields bear endless fruits, which are inexhaustible. The fields in autumn are golden, and the joy of harvest shines in the sun.
In winter, there are only bare branches in the field, the water in the river has turned into ice, and there is nothing to satisfy in the field. We made a snowman and had a snowball fight in the snow.
Our little footprints and a string of crisp laughter were left in the snow. Ah! I love you-the field of my hometown. You added wings to my childhood dream and let it fly in the air. I love you-the fields in my hometown, and I will always love you wherever I go.
3. The poem describing hometown is 1. The road to my hometown is the day I left home. At night, the way home always comes into my mind when I close my eyes. The way home with memories is full of the joys and sorrows of my childhood.
Sweet and sour. Tears and smiling faces at this moment, whether bitter or sweet, are melodious songs in memory, like a clear spring hometown road carrying me through yesterday. Yesterday, I was ragged and ran with the wind, chasing a smiling spring on a dirt road full of weeds. 2. I am homesick in the rain, and it is raining in Mao Mao. The raindrops falling in the drizzle sky are like the rain that a wanderer keeps missing his hometown. It must have washed away a clean village. In the dreams of the villagers, the wheat waves rolled over a corner of the green trees, braving the smoke and imagining climbing to the top of their hometown. Father sat on the door of the old house, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and lit a cigarette. I squinted at the rain dripping from the eaves and merging into a cheerful stream flowing to the green fields. Sitting at the door of my hometown, watching the clouds in the sky, the blue sky of Shuwa is getting deeper and deeper because of more and more clouds. On the apricot tree with a thick bowl in front of the door, a donkey is chewing grass. I don't know which donkey barked. The donkey also raised its neck and called a white rabbit like snow.
1. The way home always reaches my thoughts when I close my eyes at night. The way home with memories is full of the joys and sorrows of my childhood. Sweet and sour.
Tears and smiling faces at this moment, whether bitter or sweet, are melodious songs in memory, like a clear spring hometown road carrying me through yesterday. Yesterday, I was ragged and ran with the wind, chasing a smiling spring on a dirt road full of weeds. 2. I am homesick in the rain, and it is raining in Mao Mao. The raindrops falling in the drizzle sky are like the rain that a wanderer keeps missing his hometown. It must have washed away a clean village. In the dreams of the villagers, the wheat waves rolled over a corner of the green trees, braving the smoke and imagining climbing to the top of their hometown. Father sat on the door of the old house, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and lit a cigarette. Squinting my eyes, I watched the rain dripping on the eaves and merging into a cheerful stream flowing to the green fields. Sitting at the door of my hometown and looking at the rolling clouds in the air, the blue sky of Shuwa is getting deeper and deeper because of more and more clouds. On an apricot tree with a thick bowl in front of the door, a donkey is chewing grass. I don't know which donkey called it out. The donkey also raised its neck and called out a white rabbit. White as snow suddenly jumped up and stopped from me. Several chickens ran out of the grass screaming, and one of them swallowed a bug as soon as its neck was stretched out. A familiar voice made me look at the intersection. Thin mother is driving the pig home. The Song of Homesickness is a melodious and beautiful song of homesickness. The moon always hangs in the middle of the night, and the stars blink. A wisp of Wei Yun was cut by the breeze. On such a night, I gently sang loveliness with my homesick heart. The beautiful hometown of blue sky, white clouds, green mountains, green water and golden wheat waves must be rolling in again. You see, the corners of the villagers' mouths are smiling again. Tonight, just sleep peacefully, sleep in a dream with your hometown and have a happy dream. When you wake up, maybe my father drove the donkey with a whip and brought some hope. Hometown, the hometown of my poetry, a village lying in a ravine, I want to write a poem praising your hometown with the pen in my hand and the thoughts flowing in my heart. My hometown is in the sky. The rolling back of the mountains is singing in the ravine. The lights in the moonlight sparkle with beans, and the breeze blows up the skirts at night. So I put wings in the dream of the mountain people, fly, fly ... to the glorious hometown ahead. In the dim candlelight, your son knocked on the keyboard with tears in his eyes and arranged the missing sentences into jumping lines. On May 1 day, he went home to pack a bag of homesickness and set foot on a train crawling on the mountain road. Dear hometown, your son is coming to you. How many times have I returned to the wandering dream? Homesickness is like this flying dust, falling all the way to the late-night castle peak in my hometown. How many times the stream slowly flows back into the dream of the wanderer, homesickness is like this beautiful scenery, with pictures flowing in the poems of the wanderer, and the willows sprout new green all the way.
How many times have the flowers recalled the memory of the wanderer? Homesickness is like this touching spring. In the deep eyes of the wanderer looking at his hometown, he led to lingering attachment and went home. The wheel ran over the mountain road in my hometown, so the corner of the vicissitudes of life was hidden in the gap of the leaves. Poetry after waking up at 7 noon, my hometown is used to entertaining wanderers home, but I am no longer used to taking a quiet nap at home. Wind, birds, chickens and tractors awaken hot money from dreams. The sun shines obliquely on the face through the window grilles, and the spring birds' songs mingle with the children's laughter and echo outside the wooden fence.
Look at the spring breeze running in the blue sky. Wei Yun waved snow-white long sleeves to cheer for spring. Green wheat seedlings carpeted the hillside. Poems of hope are rolling in their hometown villages. The children are playing among apricot, pear and peach blossoms. Adults scold children and scare you away from spring. There is a flock of birds flapping their wings in the rebuke of adults on the old locust tree and flying west to the sun. 8 hometown, hometown, hometown, I was born and raised in my hometown. Every night when I am wandering in a foreign land, my dreams always haunt you. The winding mountain road has left every footprint of my growth, witnessed the slow growth of a mountain village teenager, witnessed the waves rolling in the spring breeze along the roadside of a mountain village, just like the villagers' beautiful hopes floating to the distant place of their dreams, the roads and mountains connected with the fields continued to delay to the distant place of their dreams, and then disappeared into the sky. The international peak is a loess house lying at the foot of the mountain, looking out from generation to generation. Their faces are engraved with wind and frost, and their childish faces are touched by rough hands covered with calluses. The willows and wisps of smoke around the house are accompanied by the wishes of the villagers. Ran Ran floated into the blue sky, and a few kind screams of cattle and sheep awakened the homesick wanderers in their dreams, and knocked out a few lines of poems on the keyboard, flowing quietly like a river in their hometown. On the other side of the mountain is my hometown. The grass on the mountain flutters with the wind, and under the mountain are beautiful pools and fertile fields. The fragrance of the green fields is most like the pulse of the river beating in the ravine. There are endless apricot branches in spring, green leaves that cover the sun in summer, and the continuous rain in autumn can't cool the lover's heart. In winter, there is no trace of heavy snow, but the impulse of young people can't be buried. Beyond the mountain is the endless smoke from my hometown.
4. Are there any poems describing the scenery of hometown, 1, passing by the old village?
Tang Dynasty: Meng Haoran
This old friend prepared a delicious meal and invited me to his hospitable farm. Green Woods surround the village and green hills are located outside the city.
Open the window facing the valley vegetable garden and pass the glass to talk about crops. Please come here to see chrysanthemums when the ninth festival comes.
My old friend prepared a sumptuous meal and invited me to his hospitable farmhouse. Green Woods surround the village and green mountains span the city. Open the window to the grain field and vegetable garden and raise a glass to talk about crops. The Double Ninth Festival is here. Please come here to see chrysanthemums.
2. "quatrains"
Tang Dynasty: Du Fu
"Two orioles sing green willows, and egrets cover the sky."
My window framed the snow-covered western hills. My door often says "goodbye" to ships sailing eastward.
Two orioles sang softly among the green willows, and a neat team of egrets went straight into the blue sky. Sitting by the window, you can see the snow accumulated all the year round on Xiling Mountain, and ships from Dongwu, thousands of miles away, are parked in front of the door.
3. "Tour Shanxi Village"
Song dynasty: Lu you
Don't laugh at the farmhouse music brewed in the muddled month. In the harvest month, the dishes for guests are very rich. There is no way to go because of the winding water flow in the mountains, and a mountain village suddenly appears in the willow-green flower bay.
The day of playing flute and drums is approaching, and the villagers are still dressed simply. In the future, if you can go out in the moonlight, I will knock on your door at any time with my cane.
Don't laugh at the muddy wine brewed in the twelfth lunar month. In the harvest year, the hospitality is very rich. The mountains overlap and the water twists and turns. I'm afraid there is no way out. Suddenly, a mountain village appeared in front of me.
The day of playing flute and drum in the Spring Festival Club is coming. The villagers are dressed simply and still retain the ancient customs. In the future, if I can go out for a walk in the bright moonlight, I will definitely knock on your door at any time with a cane.
4. Rain in the mountain village
Tang Dynasty: Wang Jian
One or two chickens crow in the rain, and Zhuxicun Road leans against Banqiao.
Mother-in-law called a silkworm bath and watched gardenias in the atrium.
There is a crow in the rain, and one or two families can be seen faintly in the mountain village. On the village road above Zhuxi, a slab bridge is oblique. Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law call each other and choose silkworm eggs together. Only gardenias are in bloom, swaying in the courtyard alone.
5. "Four Seasons and Pastoral Miscellaneous Prosperity II"
Song Dynasty: Fan Chengda
Plum golden apricot fat, wheat white, cauliflower thin.
No one has ever crossed the fence, but dragonflies and butterflies can fly
A plum tree turns golden, and the apricots grow bigger and bigger; Buckwheat flowers are white and rape flowers are sparse. As the day grows, the shadow of the fence becomes shorter and shorter as the sun rises, and no one passes by; Only dragonflies and butterflies fly around the fence.
5. The field composition in my hometown describes the morning, noon and evening on the winding path. Go straight ahead and you will come to the fields in our village. Looking around, the fields are green. Without the barrier of the Qing Ji Expressway, this field would really become a huge green carpet.
In the early morning, if you come to the field, you can see the "pearl" on the wheat seedling, glittering and translucent, embedded in the green wheat leaves, as if it were a wonderful sculpture. The field seems to have just taken a bath. At this time, the fields bring us fresh air and the unique earthy atmosphere in the countryside.
At noon, the sun is shining, and those "pearls" dare not stay on the leaves anymore. Mai Miao lay comfortably on the ground, letting the sun dry his wet clothes, and proudly shook his little head, as if to say, "It's good to bask in the sun!" " "Our children like to play in the fields at this time, flying kites, digging wild vegetables, fishing in puddles and repairing" projects "in pits ... The fields bring us unlimited fun.
In the evening, the sun went away and half the sky was dyed red. These red lights reflected on the fields, and the fields changed color. At this time, the field was silent, which seemed to change the world compared with the excitement at noon.
I love the fields in my hometown because they bring us happiness, joy and beauty!