Green trees and grass
Green crops
Crowding of vast fields
Become an obstacle to October.
I want to lie in the thick green.
Surrounded by green waves
And dyed my heart green.
I lay on the grass and crops.
A path surrounded by.
Listen to the breeze, crickets and cicadas.
Or footsteps approaching
This green spray will definitely put
My boat is up.
Young to October Sky
The air in October is like a pool in autumn.
When it's cold, sweat comes out.
It is repelled by the wind and shrinks pores.
I waved my pick to cut corn.
A blade that is not too sharp.
The oblique split cut off the thick straw.
But its roots are still attached to the soil
The weather in October is really suitable for work.
The air is cool and clean.
Father followed the team in the country.
Push stones to build a house on a lonely mountain.
Reclaim land and grow grain in Hetao
Follow the production team.
Write poetry in the field of responsibility
Sometimes I care.
Big events and small feelings in the village
Including who became the party branch secretary.
Whoever is the village head is an honest official.
Who pocketed the money after becoming an official?
Father's honesty and frankness are like a sorghum.
Many years after his mother died, he was alone.
Lose your temper and meet something unfair.
Everyone has to shout. After the stepmother entered the door,
His life has changed.
There are more than a dozen chickens and two black and white puppies in the yard.
One by one grew up, and the cat that caught the mouse died and raised another.
Fattened beef cattle have to slaughter two pairs a year.
Chickens and dogs cause trouble, and it may be called a family.
Swallows came under the eaves and made a nest.
A flock of sparrows flew to the big elm tree.
Talking nonstop. Is it a comment?
Which dog is fierce and which cow is strong?
More than 60 years old, covered with white hair.
I don't know what a veteran is.
Father won many victories in the struggle against natural disasters.
It is absolutely difficult for grass people to make out with crops.
A thick layer of cow dung on the ridge.
Corn, potatoes, radishes, Chinese cabbage.
Each has his own strengths. It's just that country night is a little
Lonely and desolate, otherwise my father would be comfortable in the village.
Life is like this city.
Every time I come back from the country
Father always gives me a lot of things.
There are round potatoes in the worm skin bag.
Smooth and white corn
And green Chinese cabbage.
And snow-white green onions
Every time I bring back something different.
It depends on the permission of the season and the connivance of the earth.
Before leaving, my father always thought
Keep bumping around behind my motorcycle.
Pull the rope hard
Afraid of driving too fast
The tied vegetables and vegetables are lost.
In fact, these things I brought back
Not the most.
At most, it is accumulated in the brain.
Thick homesickness, condensed with homesickness.
Some lines with uneven length.
I saw the villagers.
Autumn is coming, red fruit.
Or yellow leaves and branches
Try to empty it
The remnants of these plants are loosening.
In this season's intestines.
Excrement behind the soil
Or farmers' pens and stoves.
soon after
A large field will remain unchecked.
A leap of eyes
A new leaf will be exposed.
Jian Huang's beautiful breasts.
Ridges crisscross and roads crisscross.
Under the sky, telephone poles are transmitting electricity.
Let wheat seeds, machine wells, accordions and karaoke.
Dancing in autumn for the second time
The wind in October is so sweet
The orchard is dark green and the lanterns are still red.
A ladder leads to Apple Paradise.
Poke persimmon with a pole
Red radish looks like a pregnant woman.
The soaring figures loomed.
Green leaves try to cover up a truth about high yield.
A towering cloud floated across the mountains of Yuan Ye.
Fight to suck the nipples of the earth.
The sixth issue of Lotus Lake Year
The sun golden ball is installed in
The sky is 45 degrees southwest.
Dazzling golden awn,
Let the distant peaks surge like waves,
Yang Shulin is in the vast fields, and the greenhouse protects the spring.
A light blue hemispherical dome,
Exposed to the pure truth in an unobstructed view.
Only the wind moves in the fields.
Father received an injunction, and the whole village,
It has been closed in the small time and space of its own home by folk customs.
The village entrance revealed the news that a black car was drunk.
The sound of shuffling sounded,
The noise of playing poker overturned the roof,
Who is surfing the Internet to enjoy the whole CCTV Spring Festival Gala?
The flavor of the year is constantly ruminating in the mouth of cattle.
Only hard-working shepherds are whipping the breeze.
The world is so quiet that people in the village are celebrating the New Year.
Like an altar of wine, it is getting stronger and stronger. The air in the wild is so fresh.
The sun was repeatedly washed by the wind and the fields were evenly smeared.
The dust on the road is low-key enough to crawl under the windy river.
Only a few grains of dust are flying in the ballet.
I don't know where the god not far away is,
The vortex of the wind wraps the flying leaves,
Rush forward
I washed my ears with the breeze on the path.
At the moment, walking in the fields is extremely extravagant.
All the people were intoxicated by the festival wine.
Fall into a gentle encirclement
Avoid the noise, including the footsteps of infatuation with hot land,
The local accent also lived in seclusion for one night and rested for one night.
Only happy people monopolize the field and walk alone on the ridge.
Looking back at the village, he saw six lanterns hanging on a beam.
Dark red roofs and brown Woods reveal the tenderness of the village entrance.
Rows of lanterns, rows of lanterns, flashing orange.
A magpie performed a solo dance for me in the field. How touching.
For a time, it was like a naive child walking in the wheat field.
Tap grass seeds in the soil with a sharp mouth
After a while, I pursed my tail a few times and fluttered to the low altitude.
This free bird is calling for friends now.
Let the clear crying indulge in the clarity.
I washed my ears with the breeze on the path.
The whistling wind is like a clear stream.
The first layer washed away the dust on the ears.
The second layer washed away the accumulated earwax.
The third layer washed away the noise of the world of mortals.
So many ancestors stood up in unison.
Continue to walk alone in the depths of the plain, wearing Yang Shulin.
I seem to see so many ancestors.
Suddenly stood up from the soil.
They are all familiar or unfamiliar surnames.
Zhang Wang Li Zhao, black egg dog left
I saw their long-lost faces again.
Behind each of them.
They are all engraved with words and have done great work.
Have suffered a lot, sweated a lot, or contributed a lot.
Only during the slack season.
They will stand up,
Protruding, sublime and shocking.
When crops are everywhere
I've never met them.
At that time they plunged into the field.
Like a naughty gazi
A fish jumped into the water.
Let the whole plain calm down
This is the field where I once cultivated.
To the south of the village, a piece of land near the canal
That's the vegetable garden where I cut leeks in the drizzle.
A waterwheel, a big well, a fallen stone tablet.
The vague inscription pressed by the rut.
In the south, near the river.
That is the field where I braved the scorching sun to fertilize.
On the yellow land as big as the sky
I am just a grain of ink when weeding at noon.
I want to use footprints in the elegance of the festival.
Kiss every piece of land I have cultivated.
The rubber of fate has gradually pulled relatives away from the household registration book.
Since then, this land has changed one after another.
Colorful different lineages flow in the blood vessels.
I suddenly remembered a professor in his eighties.
He said: I want you to lead me.
Look at every path and gully around the village.
I said, even behind your back, you want your wish to come true!
At this time, I really heard the surging waves inside him.
I am with a road.
The country road is a blue and white snake, walking through the forest.
The snakehead chased my heel,
I followed you everywhere in the dense corn field.
Smooth, narrow, narrow,
Like a bright dagger,
Straight into the chest of the green tent
The wide and thin corn leaves are slightly disturbed.
It's like stirring their sensitive nerves,
Running at a high decibel and screaming for pain.
Few people come to the wild path. Who is knocking at the silence?
Wild flowers-morning glory, wild chrysanthemum
Green bristlegrass and plantain keep blue light alone.
Cricket, cicada and mantis form a circle.
Talking about this stiff green bug
Childhood wishes are really small,
On the edge, in the corner,
In the endless farmland,
Flowers are blooming everywhere.
As small as a crooked sickle,
Moon buds on the horizon,
Go home with sweat and dew.
Cheng Xiao's father smiled a little.
I suddenly forgot my shoulder,
Both the Vitex negundo basket and the basket were swollen and bitten.
The wind is like a blind black hole.
There is a tongue hidden in the hole.
The tongue is covered with barbs.
Like a tiger, fierce and bloody.
It catches some prey.
Such as antelope, elk or hippo and orangutan.
Take out the bone with a sharp tongue.
Let the grassland get cold.
Not so much an antelope as a kangaroo.
Death comes from tigers in nature.
More like a strong wind.
The strong wind blew out their heart lights.
Unusual, extraordinary
What a terrible thing strong winds are.
Like a herd of wild animals, all the wild animals came running together,
Can blow white hair and bend back.
Blow people from morning till night
Blow life from the ground into the ground
All solid things can't help being blown away by the wind.
Like Qin Gong Han Guan and Tang Que Song Cheng.
Like lights, they were blown out by the strong wind.
Without a trace.
Facing the strong wind that devoured the dynasty and didn't spit bones.
I tremble, warm in the winter sun,
When I encounter the misfortune of a strong wind
I always say:
Go, you unruly beast!
How cold should this cold be?
In the garden of People's Square,
Some branches were stripped of their clothes by the wind.
Showing a thin body,
Like a group of scavengers exiled by fate.
The yellow leaves were defeated,
After being defeated on all sides, the defeated soldiers were buried in the wilderness.
I saw pieces of yellow leaves sandwiched between sparse long cracks.
Or, stacked on the desolate and rigid ground.
Tourists are very stingy, and for what they once loved,
Dress up the beauty of the country and be ashamed to follow the tips of the soul.
Take out the petals of praise.
Footprints should also be people who fall when they are down.
Leave a lonely time board on the innocent leaves.
The lonely geese have drifted south, and the clouds have been buried by fog.
Pedestrians on the road are like a duck to water.
Wandering between buildings,
Cold numbs the face and makes the hands cringe.
Hiding in warm skin, a gentle town called home,
Trapped by bubble dramas and the internet.
Actually, I shouldn't choose such a word.
To describe branches and flowers covered with frost,
Describe the scenery after late autumn,
Beautiful winter, snowy night.
The way you walk in the years,
The truth without hesitation, simplify the complex.
The angel of autumn drives a carriage.
Pulling me and the foggy season like melting white.
Pulling sighs and floating fields,
March into spring. Let's curl up for a while,
Take back the pupa sewn by heaven.
This huge pupa has a white shell.
Put the village and deer into the body cavity,
Insects in mountains, rivers, paths, surface and subsurface,
We feel boundless in the white pupa,
Feel the cold, feel the atmosphere before spring.
Gradually, I fell in love with the cold and sang repeatedly in the cold.
Singing the land of fog,
Everything settles, forest meditation,
Plants hatch dreams, and the bleak twilight breeds thoughts.
Ten kilometers away, the Chinese New Year is full of homesickness.
Desire is ignited by a wisp of flower fragrance floating from home,
Mother, window grilles and lanterns lit up the beams.
The road through the village
The road through the village is full of twists and turns.
Like a luxurious piece of cloth.
Spread it on the field.
Printed with the footprints of kittens and ducks.
Like a postmark.
Pass on their idea of finding love.
This road through the village was built by my mother.
A thin thread, sitting in the moonlight.
Put a village near an electric light.
Sew a pearl sweater on the plain, which is warm in winter and cool in summer.
The road through the village, ambush in
Stayed in the village for many years.
Like a line into a calm pond.
Fishing has produced many rural customs.
Father is not always at ease with rural customs.
His words hit the floor, always pull out the radish and bring out the mud.
So it is inevitable that some people will be red-eyed and jealous.
Or grandpa, always happy every day.
Village road is actually his early anti-Japanese.
A clue on a homemade mine
It rings as soon as you pull it out.
A legend retired in the corner.
Now, my mother is sitting at the end of village road.
Listen along the path
The news that a fish swam to his hometown.
I still want to find my hometown like a butterfly.
So careful.
Will the wind in my hometown blow again?
Too many tears overflowed the dam.
The war has subsided,
The dust settled.
The back of October is drifting away.
The village is quiet and the leaves are home.
There is only wind in the wilderness.
Talk to a flying leaf
It once climbed the tall branches and took off the stars and the moon.
Finally fell down.
Seasonal swing
Dig the winter grave
Some winds fall into traps.
Roar at the bottom of the valley
A large area of sadness is mixed with old wine.
Ferment in the old house
People who listened to the wind and rain began to rap.
The road out of the village is like noodles in a pot.
Wandering from one village to another.
Bring home the story of work.
On a plate of heatable adobe sleeping platform
The sound of the waves rang.
Earn money, the day after October
An idea exploded in my heart.
It's louder than firecrackers in the New Year.