The second sentence is a yellow-green swan, spreading its wings and flying in the street, carrying lovers' thoughts, greetings from relatives, messages from enterprises, students' voices, opening a small postal box, unfolding, a smiling face of Zhang Xinwei.
In the third sentence, he is not a hero, but he is thicker than Zhang Jian's two missions to the Western Regions. He is not a beautiful woman, but he is more attractive than Zhao Jun's trip. How many streets and alleys has the golden seal crossed through the ages? There is a warm bell in my memory, a piece of paper-length stationery, and how many men, women and children are there day and night in spring, summer, autumn and winter? Involved in more sentimental dreams under the moon, he always rides an old green bicycle without looking back, carrying all his love and hope, "pedaling" in the wind and rain, moving forward-muddy, never asking, wandering all his life.
The fourth sentence is full of emails and expectations. The morning breeze blows on my face, and the soft feeling seems to be the breeze in April, gently brushing the newly thawed lake, and a gentle wave spreads like a farther place. In the ferry of time, we always embrace the future quickly, throw away the cold and heat again and again, and send the mail to the hearts of thousands of families again and again.
5. You carry a heavy mail bag and hope, and have gone through years, vicissitudes and bumpy long distances. There are information about animal husbandry and agriculture, expectations for children's study, thoughts for your wife and children, and concern for your parents, brothers and sisters. You have gone through foggy rainy season, hot summer, rich autumn, biting winter and cold, regardless of wind and rain, regardless of snow and ice.
A postman in an olive uniform walks through the street, delivering newspapers and mail. The annual trip to Wan Li, coming in the wind and going in the rain, is like a green olive, which makes people warm. This is the working process of every postman year after year, day after day. They are nothing remarkable, but their serious and persistent work attitude has left an unforgettable impact on people. Whether it is the true nature of work or the needs of the industry, their spirit is worthy of praise and praise from the society.
You are the swan goose that delivers books, and you bring the affection of distant friends. Thank you, postman, the angel in our hearts!
The eighth sentence is like walking into Dai Wangshu's rain lane. In this rainy season, I walked into a village full of umbrellas and light rain. Or the aunt at the entrance of the village took off my backpack for me. It was the enthusiastic old village chief who took a sip of strong tea. The old village head held his hand tightly, which reminded me of the red pot fire in winter and my distant hometown again. Say goodbye to the old village head and let your hands clap again. My shoulders, my green skirt, jingle bells, shake to the muddy place, like an American country singer, gently playing his beloved guitar, a country postman, I will chant for drafting green poems, a girl holding flowers on Valentine's Day, but waiting at the next village entrance, I still have a dream-like vision.
You are a living Lei Feng, a kind angel and the most beautiful messenger. You are like a clear spring in the mountains, you are like a warm wind in spring, and your love has brought infinite light, warmth and comfort to a lonely old man. You are ordinary, really extraordinary. You are a real hero in the world.
10 It keeps raining and the wind keeps blowing. Pearl-like water drops dripped from the eaves and scattered on the ground. It's very hazy between heaven and earth, as if hanging a thin curtain, which makes the scenery in the distance hazy and fuzzy ... "Ding-ding, ding-ding" A hurried bicycle bell seems to be more crisp in the torrential rain. In the distance, a tall and strong figure appeared in the rain curtain. Who's that? Take a closer look. Oh, it's the uncle who delivers the newspaper. I saw him wearing a green raincoat and riding a rusty old bicycle. There was a small green cloth bag in front of him, which read "China Post" and was wrapped in a small transparent plastic bag. The strong figure seems to become very weak in the rain. The postman is young, but his dark face is covered with wrinkles and scattered on his cheeks and forehead like bugs. Jiongjiongweishen's eyes are sunken inward and bloodshot. Perhaps it is because they have experienced too many days of sending letters, and they have these "marks".