Wheat field

The wheat fields that gave their lives and nourishment were all over the mountains, and one part of them were placed on different hillsides. The hillside is inclined to the angle of the eaves and the Reaper’s back, accompanying the growth of the years. The flat wheat field cut through the original peace of the hillside. The hillside was not calm. From then on, there was the cultivation, sweat, pain and singing of life and life. From then on, there was the name called terrace and scyck, since then, these names have been wiped bright and bright by sweat. The split flat fields are like the steps of the city climbing to the peak of the tourist attractions. The orderly steps are like the electronic originals arranged manually in digital appliances, it marks the symmetrical position and number. The terraced fields on the hillside always have only the original shape of the hillside. The East and the West are high and low, long and short, big and small, straight and curved, randomly arranged and casually matched, lost any level and rule casually, no order, no primary and secondary order, no favourable decoration, no matter which block is carved with green oil wheat seeds, it is a meaningful poem of coarse mine. One by one scattered poem, folded into the whole valley, like a roll of rolling volumes, rich and ancient, clear and majestic. The late spring breeze startled the songs of Azalea birds dripping blood in the wheat field, and there were also many modest struggles and breaths. The stubborn wheat seedlings could withstand the depression of the cold outside the soil, try to get out of the sharp head and thin body, and begin to listen to the restlessness of spring when nature just wakes up. The wheat fields with rough mining lines and the hidden paths like snake bellies are drawn one by one, leading the flexible strings of mountains and wild fields, the diligent insects, the wild eagle flying in the sky and a low cloud blooming like a mushroom, jump up the happy and comfortable notes in the spring. The spring breeze danced and waved its flourishing fingers, stirring the low sound of insects, the long song of birds, the sorrow of clouds, the patrol of Eagles and the loneliness of mountains and fields. Dandelion carefully opened the small yellow umbrella and watched the life-and-death roaring war launched by Ant Brigade and earthworms on the road. Shandandan slowly exposed crimson petals, inducing the passing butterfly to stop its long journey, reluctant to open your beautiful wings. The mountain was quiet, and a clear spring was gurgling in the north of the mountain rocks with the coolness of the mountain. Only beauty called musicians could enjoy the nectar and jade liquid produced by nature. The beautiful and pure musicians enjoy themselves tirelessly, with the toughness of the mountains and the ignorance of the seasons. The movement of spring has not been finished yet, and the wheat ears rising from jointing have inadvertently broken the season balance. -Style fingers a sudden end. Xia’s footsteps couldn’t help stepping onto the stage of performance. That is a young man in the mountains, strong, young and solid. As soon as he stepped on the stage, he made the flat wheat field as monotonous as the feathers of immature young birds, and gave birth to the strong wheat field as the black hair of young girls, the green and green mountains, the wind came again, and the undulating melody was twitched from the hillside. A song was full of the smell that wheat was going to mature and wet, rolling the warlords of the throbbing wave of love, and began to flow, flow, flow in the depth of the hillside,! The maturity of the season makes the wheat field more mature. The mature wheat field bid farewell to the dryness in early spring and the green and wet in early summer, meet comes crop of another crop hot air and cool breeze alternating blowing of pain, therefore, the Sun Golden contracted wheat skin, first 1.1 point, then is a piece, but later on, it was a lot, from head to foot, all over the mountains and plains, vigorous and fast. In a flash of effort, the mountains were dyed into countless golden poems, and the hillside was hot and could not be filled any more, gold poured down along the hillside, flowing, flowing, becoming a waterfall, hanging on the cliffs of the season! Wheat field, where is it hidden? You no longer belong to you, you have been melted by seasons and light! Hay! June 6, busy and busy, whose embroidered daughter got out of bed. The path is curved, like thin Acacia lines, holding those tiny steps until the wheat field lost its tenderness kissed by the fierce sun. A box of small terraced fields that cannot be smaller. Scalding no longer needs enthusiasm, what it needs is the moisture of spring water and sweat, what it needs is the condensation of sickles and wrists, the tiny and stubborn wheat seedlings, and the perseverance of copper all over the body, in the refining of the sickles and sweat, there is no reason for them to surrender, in front of the sickles and sweat. Small pieces of wheat fields slowly exposed bare wheat Awn, and those wheat Awn as sharp as the needle tip pierced through the childhood of many young girls and young men. Time seemed to become fast. The time of wheat field changed as soon as it turned around. The wheat field behind him left a large blank of wheat Awn, just like the youth without any harvest and the dazzling eyes of white flowers, ache! The wheat fields poured through by the sun gradually became empty in the cheers of sickles and the moaning of sweat hitting the painful soil, with more and more wheat and more empty, maimang can’t keep out the flowing season, just like holding cheap arms can’t keep out the fleeting youth. In the hot sun like fire, I ran happily on the wheat field, picked up the dripping wheat ears and watched the last footprints removed from the wheat field. The wheat field was blank, and the whole valley was blank. In the lonely heart of the sun, what did Maimang count? It is nothing but a broken gun left behind the blade and sword in the ancient battlefield, but an old scar left in the bottom of my heart after love. If you lose it, you lose it. What’s the use of picking it up again? It is better to bury it in the soil of years and add some nutrients to the harvest in the coming year! Heavy wheat fields say goodbye to the busiest days of the year and look forward to the birth of the next reincarnation. Just like a teenager saying goodbye to the most precious youth in his life, the youth of a teenager has no reincarnation. Don’t say goodbye. Leave hope next time. When you are lonely, Choosing Hope is also a kind of wisdom. If you feel painful, you will sing a rainy song with the season and cool down for the sadness going deep into the marrow. Rain is water and the cycle of water. Water is the source of life and the cycle of life. Wheat field carries the moisture of life as well as the weight of life. In the cool night rain, I am looking forward to the next reincarnation! Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) change the way to continue to stay with this city I went out at 6 o’clock in the morning and came back at almost 8 o’clock in the evening. 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