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In the afternoon of the Beer never broke my heart shirt in the front, we followed behind to pick up the roots of the tree, only one sample left with our fingers, and soon the reed will grow in the vegetable. They are taller than vegetables, greener, stronger, but no one can buy or eat. Firewood, compared to using chopsticks does not work, no one wants to cut down the fire. So the neighbors are wandering wild grass and reeds. So the whole childhood wandered wild grass and reeds. In the dry season, the children went to re-burn on either side of the road, and when they burned, they crunched like a cannon, and the fly ash worked in the middle of the sky. Close to human beings, mixed with humans, encircling people, but reeds are extremely lonely. There is no one in the season when the season comes. Only once a year, when my body was old, fell yellow, tan, my cheeks went to choose the best reeds, chopped into a few bundles.
So submerged under the Beer never broke my heart shirt, waiting for the rain to embrace the rice fields. The fresh reeds that are brought to the ground, then the unripe green rice has sprouted branches. Living so intensely, so the reed people use tight braided wire to make fence panels to keep the chickens, ducks or the rivers under the river catch shrimp, fish soon the new branch will be made into blue curves. midstream. To earnestly live, despite love to hate, reeds also bloom. Cotton also doesn’t hold any look. Poetic. Pale. Only children are waiting for the season of ripe cotton, the season of wind and wind blows, new season, Tet season. Slender and slender, the mop rose up high and smooth, white among the thousands of cotton-headed reeds, flowing into the wind. On the bed of ripe cotton, he wore wind and painted the sun.