Green trees, deep shadows, long summer, the reflection of the tower in the pond.

The crystal curtains are blowing gently, and the roses are fragrant.

"Mountain Pavilion Summer" Tang Gaopian

The whole Huangmei season is sticky. The dark sky glowed with blazing yellow light, which made people dizzy. The sun was trapped in thick clouds and desperately struggled to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, one day, with a loud noise, the sky opened and the sun broke through the dark clouds. Summer is coming.

Heart, just put down half. The sigh that has been in my chest for a long time has burned into a heat wave before it is issued. People are like a mass of fermented flour, baked outside and baked into bulging bread inside, and the sweat spewing out is the water vapor evaporated from this dough. Occasionally, a slight breeze will be wrapped in boiling, making you impulsive and silent, crazy and boring, and bored to death. Day after day, the sun refuses to go home, and you are small in the sun, desperate in sweat and detached in despair.

This moment is another life. Your mind, your desire, your life, are not in the state. Many things that were indispensable in the past have become redundant.

At this moment, because you are far away from the secular world, you will feel some hurried, real and hard-to-taste smells, which sound completely irrelevant.

At such a moment, there will be a little girl who raises her eyebrows and sings a child's voice and says, I like summer because I can wear a flowered skirt.

At such a moment, a little boy will strut and pretend to be a man and say, I like to plop into the cool pool unprepared.

Adults can have an excuse to leave their jobs. Find a quiet and ventilated place, set up a bamboo and rattan chair, lie down with your eyes slightly open, and look at the world and yourself aloof.

Recalling the past battles, my mouth raised a trace of self-mockery: why? This kind of heartfelt information has brought some freshness and comfort to life.

Or pick a book that has been turned over for dozens of times, turn it over gently, and wander around idly. When it seems to be finished, you will find a beautiful article suddenly shining in front of your eyes. Romantic, vicissitudes of life, words that have long been familiar, often pop up a unique style in this hot despair, giving birth to the true meaning of the world.

The melodies of spring, summer, autumn and winter are different, and summer is such a string of notes. This kind of worldly life gives you a quiet introspection, a foreign wisdom and a real nothingness in your agitation.

I like summer, and I like this hot season all the year round-

Because she is romantic, free and unrestrained. Just like a person who doesn't show talent, he is green and full of vitality. It is so pure, natural, warm and real when it is opened at will.

Like the bright sunshine in summer, naked and unreserved dedication; I like the fresh air and blue sky in summer. Always staring for a long time, is there anyone who likes to think like me? I like the dense shade in summer, squinting through the layers of leaves and looking at the colors. When the breeze comes, it is glorious and free; I like to listen to the hoarse chirping of cicadas; I like to play tricks on my neighbor's cats and dogs when they sleep lazily together. It's like, it suddenly rains cats and dogs in summer, watching children run and play in the rain.

I like skirts fluttering all over the street in summer, and bloom has gone; I like the delicate skin of girls like lotus root, which makes people feast their eyes. I like many watery flowers and women's happy smiles in front of the station vendors.

I like boiling like jiaozi in the swimming pool.

I like to scoop half a watermelon with a spoon and enjoy watching the ball game.

Like summer is like that kind of light and fresh feeling, like a cheerful song, and everyone in the street is its jumping note.

Like summer is like the intimate relationship between man and nature. Nature is magnanimous, mixed with fresh plants and fragrant land, and people convey their love with their skin.

I like summer, because I like high-spirited energy.

Summer often brings back countless sweet memories. Those beautiful monuments, little by little, are clearly presented in front of you. ...

One summer day in junior high school, I bravely picked up a sickle, a straw hat and a pot of cold water and braved the scorching sun of more than 40 degrees to come to the countryside. All day, I sweated and cut wheat. When I am thirsty, I drink well water. Tired, I hid under an orange tree and read a novel. No one bothered me, only cicadas on the tree and caterpillars on the ground accompanied me. My family has always wanted to know why I love my job so much. I just want a quiet environment to enjoy my spirit naturally.

One summer morning, I got up early, took a book and walked in the small garden in front of my house. Oleander broke his hazy eyes, and pieces of honeysuckle in the hollowed-out cloister gave me a sweet smile. Now the whole garden is mine, and the cool dew blooms and rises in the rising sun. After a night of dew washing, the leaves sparkled. I closed my eyes slightly, thinking of Xia Yi written by Su Shunqin, a poet of the Northern Song Dynasty:

Quiet and quiet small yard, I lay on a bamboo mat, cool all over; Pomegranate flowers in full bloom outside the window, through the hanging bamboo curtain, reflected Hong Ying.

The dense shade cut off the heat. It was at noon when I woke up and heard the intermittent chirping of orioles.

When wandering outside, especially on holidays, it is easiest to be lazy. I like walking in the park in the soft early summer dusk, wearing T-shirts and headphones, enjoying the fat green leaves of buttonwood trees in the park and sharing each other's secrets in the bottoms of summer insects. Sitting on the hillside, enjoying the charm of bright lights at dusk and peeking at the boys and girls coming and going. At this time, there is no noise, no tension and pressure at work, no voice of love, no pain, only my own ignorant dreams about the future.

Walking out of the house, I saw a pair of men and women hugging each other on their wings like birds on the street corner. At that moment, the red clouds and soft sunshine were shining like mountains, and their eyelashes were dyed golden yellow through the gaps in the green leaves of camphor trees on the roadside and through the corners of their eyes.

I took a deep breath, it was beautiful! Laugh involuntarily ...

I like summer for many reasons. Because I also have a sun in my heart, which makes me warm, happy and released every day. Although the temperature in this city is rising, I am still intoxicated with ecstasy. In this charming summer …

The stars are bright and sparkling; Veil-like galaxies rushed down from northeast to southwest, magnificent; Altair and Vega shine on each other on both sides of the Milky Way. The starry sky in summer is beautiful.

At night, the bright Big Dipper hangs obliquely in the northwest of the sky. The ancient book says, "A guide to the handle of a bucket is all summer in the world." . People in ancient times have noticed that the orientation of the barrel handle has a certain relationship with the season, and used this to judge the season. Song Xin's chess skills are:

"The bright moon don't branch surprised magpie, the wind cicadas in the middle of the night. The cool evening breeze seems to have spread to cicadas in the distance.

In the fragrance of rice and flowers, people talk about the harvest of a year, and frogs croak in their ears, as if in a bumper harvest year. In the old days, Maodian was near the forest, and the road turned to the stream bridge. "

You can imagine what a beautiful summer night it is.

The moon is high, the breeze is blowing slightly, the rice flowers are fragrant, and the frogs are chirping.

Can there be a better word to describe a summer night?

I still remember that summer night in my childhood when I was very young.

When the cattle came back, the sky was full of stars. Yell at the neighbor and the partner fish will pass. Or shirtless, or naked. By the bamboo forest, by the stream. Light a bonfire and feel the cicada singing. Put on bamboo sticks and barbecue on the fire. Before long, the fragrance was overflowing, and many people scrambled for food in groups.

After eating, they fought easily in the stream until the fire burned out and the family shouted, and the gang still wanted to go home.

I still miss the summer nights when I was young. In the past, many people went their separate ways, but it was not easy to meet in 2003.

Spring, like a great parallel prose; Summer is more like a quatrain.

For a long time, I don't care about cicadas anymore. My ears are busy listening to the sound of cars, the knock on the door of variety shows, the impatient voice of the conductor, and the whispers of friends attached to my ears ... I should find a clear and clean river to wash my ears, because I can't hear cicadas.

So, I didn't know when summer came in, until that day at the street corner, suddenly, all the cicadas cried at the same time, which startled me. My feet are stuck in the air, and I can't describe the invisible and intangible sound in front of me! What a surprise! It attracted my whole thought, just like iron sand rushing to a magnet. But when I held my breath and listened attentively, suddenly, I stopped talking. This cicada scared me again! Cicada tied my heart tightly like a rope, and suddenly it was released without warning, so my heart spread out defenseless, such as struggling to jump into the sky and accidentally falling on the beach!

I don't know when I crossed the threshold in summer!

This is a window with leaves. The round and flat leaves are like flower-and-bird paintings on the door curtain, and of course they are more lively. As soon as the wind blows, they swing with brushes. I seem to hear laughter, much like a group of little urchins swinging in the game! The wind is a behind-the-scenes worker, responsible for pushing them into the sky, and cicadas are cheerleaders, trying to make a sound on the branches. There is no referee.

I can't help thinking of my childhood, my childhood. Because these sweet notes are too like a tape, let me pick up the sounds of my childhood one by one.

The first thing I picked up was cicada.

At that time, the most exciting thing was not listening to cicadas but catching them. Children always like to enjoy everything that makes them curious, and I am no exception. When I was in primary school, there were three ways to go to school. One was along the river, and the tall trees on the shore covered the sky, which often covered half the sky. Although there are also rural farmhouses nearby, they are inaccessible. For us, it is really far and deep, which makes people feel scared. However, there are always many trips a week, especially in summer. Until after school in the afternoon, we will go that way together in calling friends, with no other purpose, just to catch cicadas.

You can catch cicadas, but you can't catch cicadas.

Summer is the season of sound, with rain, thunder, frogs, birds and cicadas. Cicada singing is enough to represent summer, so summer is like a quatrain.

Recite quatrains, or add a few words to sing. Cicada is the chorus of nature; Beautiful timbre, clear rhythm, recited a quatrain. This quatrain is not found in Selected Poems of Tang Poetry and Song Poetry, nor does Wang Wei, nor does Li Bai. It's a lyric poem because cicadas feel the same about seasons and midsummer. Poetry has its own flavor of life, a little simple and almost natural, and a little broad and elegant. More often, especially when they all stop their voices, I feel as if there are many heroic and tragic stories to tell in their minds. Perhaps, it is a lyric frontier poem.

Listen to cicadas in the morning and think of their nobleness. Cicada should be a hermit among winged people! Live high in the treetops, eat wind and drink dew, and don't eat fireworks. The cicada's singing is particularly light in the dim morning light, and it seems that there is nothing at a distance. After a cicada singing, my heart became transparent and clear, and I had an understanding of "where to make dust". Cicadas are Zen.

There was cicada singing in the afternoon, but it was a little noisy. Like a group of minstrels, they met unexpectedly in the shade and rested leisurely. Lala miscellaneous, they talk about the sky and inquire about the four seasons, but no one wants to write poetry, so there is no rhythm and rhythm. They exchange the direction of wandering, but they are not enthusiastic, because "wandering" actually has no direction.

At dusk, I like to listen to cicadas while walking. Walking into the world of cicadas is like enjoying a concert, if you know how to listen. Sometimes we complain that the world is getting ugly and there is too much noise in modern civilization. In fact, in a pool of turbid water, isn't there a pool of clear water? There are also so-called "sounds of nature" interwoven with machine sounds in the sound screen. We are just so busy that we miss the good things and don't know it. I am too focused on myself, and the lens of life only captures the big close-ups of my emotions, and everything else is the same background. If we can take a step back and look around, we may find that the whole pattern has changed. What has changed is not the pattern itself, but our vision. So, once in a while, slow down and let your eyes browse the world at will with the greatest possibility, and we will suddenly realize; The world is still dressing itself up. What can be more refreshing than listening to cicadas while walking? According to friends and relatives, this is our common experience. It's not difficult for us to listen to anything, is it?

Listening is also an art, and the vastness of nature is the best audio equipment. Imagine teams of male cicadas folding their wings and standing on different treetops, just like members of a symphony orchestra standing on the stage. As long as the cicada makes a sound, the sound will come out of the cage. They dedicate the most beautiful timbre to you, every word is true, and every sentence comes from Tian Dan. They have a distinct sense of rhythm, and different rhythms express different moods. Sometimes it is a chorus, sometimes it is a chorus, and there are also solos, including chords, which are clear from high to low. They don't need conductor or music. They are born singers. Singing is like flowing water, which makes people feel worried and swim in it. Another example is Peng Tao, and another example is the stormy waves, beating the emotions that have settled in your heart. In an instant, you feel that cicadas are like wild waves, robbing you of the faint sadness that you hold tightly in your hand. When cicadas have a sweet and gentle language like night, it should be a love song! Always three sentences, just like that endless lingering. However, the shortness of cicada singing suddenly came to an abrupt end at the highest tone, more like a splendid article being suddenly torn, and the sonorous words scattered all over the floor were thrown to the ground like gold, and then the silence became fragmented, leaving people with some disappointment and some sadness. Isn't it a song of life? Cicada.

And the cicada sound is still the same year after year, still like a quatrain, plain and even.

In this summer, I am no longer young, and the twists and turns of my feelings have never stopped me.