A sparrow walking into a bamboo sieve
Xue Ji, a **-year-old boy.
Sweep away a clearing.
Sift, tie ropes, and scatter the grains.
Hidden behind an old locust tree.
In a few moments, three sparrows looked around.
Jumping up and down, he walked under the bamboo sieve propped up by wooden sticks.
Walk into the little boy's Longtan Tiger's Den.
Pull the rope and buckle the screen.
Boy, cheer.
The three sparrows had become the boy's bag.
I thought that the boy would stroke the feathers of the sparrow.
Compassion cherishes and raises in cages.
But a word from the boy.
Makes me stunned, creepy :
You can roast sparrows tonight."
At the beginning of man, nature is good.
It makes me doubt the innocence of childhood.
Realistic life.
Kid, when you eat sparrow meat.
Your childhood. It will be a bird feather.
Sunset Ballad (one song).
A faint crow crouching on a dead vine.
Look the other way.
The lights of the small bridge and flowing water.
The lyricist on a skinny horse.
Haven't you returned to your hometown yet?
Sunset. Like, the stone of Sisyphus.
Dawn pushes up the hill, and dusk rolls down again.
Day after day. Let the gods punish him.
Tears flowed down his face......
Dazed book
A gecko lying on a wall.
Look east, look west.
I don't know how to climb under the green vines to take shelter.
Or bask your soul in the sun.
It's dazed.
In fact, there are countless paths under its feet.
Just because it is lost in the wind and the fragrance of flowers.
I don't know what to do——
There are too many ** in the sun.
Then wait until dusk.
Where the insects chirp, there is the light of the house.
A small wooden house covered with green vines
It comes from the forest. God's handiwork.
In memory. Always climb a wall of spring.
The back window of the wooden house is landscape.
Push it away, and you can look at the rivers and lakes in the world.
In the yard, there are flowers and plants.
It is often visited in all seasons.
When the snowflakes fall, the vines are also green.
In the bones. A cloud came and went, and it didn't stop.
All I heard was the wind.
The birds have come, on the green tiles.
Twittering: "We are all in the world".
Write poetry when you're lonely.
Hold the lights at night. Look at the moon that the ancients saw.
Read Walden
Author:Ding Jingxian, pen name: Shui Ji Yeke, male, from Fan County, Henan, farmer, veteran, middle ** member. Reading the military poets of the Sleeping Poetry Society, he likes poetry and occasionally publishes it.
Read the Sleep Poet Shooting.
Face the sea and look for the light with your black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "speaking for grassroots poets" as its mission and promoting the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, the spiritual pleasure of poetry, and the revelation of poetry to living life.