When crossing the river at noon, you can see the peak proudly climbing the glittering crystal. The river overflows eastward, and the water surface is wide. You can see a high earth dam with a row of tall trees, several rafts moored on the river bank and some scattered fishing nets in the water. Occasionally, a few unknown big birds skim over the water.
Go on, turn south, and gradually see the dark gray forest in that area, where you are at the mercy of others and smell the aroma of wood. Look both ways ― where are the trees? ! -There are weeping willows and tall young trees-until they are gone. In the future, I can't shuttle back and forth under the shade and look at the little sunshine in the cracks of the trees. I can't hear the softness of willow branches swaying in the wind, and I can't hear that willow branches always fly to the sky. Even the stakes are gone. And some dead leaves and branches. There is no trace of their existence. The roadside was empty, and I suspected that I was in the wrong place, but I clearly saw the big piece of wood. It must be like that, and I can't question it any more. However, some things I love have disappeared-but maybe they haven't. They turned into bare dark gray fences and lay in the wood. Perhaps, there are them among those woody plants. I miss the way they stood on the side of the road and then broke up.
In this place, there used to be a poplar tree, which was very tall and stood tall. When I was a child, my mother broke branches from him. Plug it into the handlebar and palm-sized green leaves will ring when the car is waiting in line, trying to wake up the little girl sleeping on the handlebar and refresh herself. I don't know where he is lying now. Old friends!
In the east, right here, yes, there is a willow across the river, like a wooden bridge without piers, full of vitality. Willow branches across the water, making the water frown.
It's all over-
Turn east, there is a newly built road, next to which are small trees. Slender trunks, slender branches, slender leaves. The tree is small and shady. Try to cover the ditch behind it. In the ditch, there are lush weeds; By the ditch, there are many flowers: yellow mother-in-law flowers, pink swallowtail flowers, blue wild morning glory and purple Mao Mao grass.
Go ahead, there is a red cabin, empty. Whole pieces or pieces of wood were scattered in the open space in front of the house. There is a winter jujube tree more than one person tall in the field. Jujube is ripe, and the emerald green leaves are covered with rubies, which make the branches heavy and shine in the sun.
Further east-a very simple low lime bridge. There is also a stream under the bridge. It's just that the water here has changed its appearance, and the clear water is stained with ink, thinking that it has become deeper and lost its precious innocence, and it can no longer shine on itself.
There is a village ahead. Not far away, a few ordinary trees are scattered. Some crowns are luxuriant and half withered, some branches and leaves are sparse, and the shadows under the sieve are scattered in the flat grain fields, and the wind is blowing gently. A number of wheat piles, large and small, are quietly sleeping.
In the clean blue sky, white clouds float into the distance, like a road paved with snowflakes, walking through the clouds, so long, so long-