Summer night prose

Summer Night Prose 1 My thoughts have returned to my childhood.

At that time, all the houses were tile houses with small windows, only one foot square. The house is dark during the day. As there is no electricity, the summer heat is unbearable.

There is a bridge near my home, which is open and cool.

In the evening, Rong and I pushed the cool bed to grab the position. In the past, there were many dragonflies, most of which were red dragonflies, flying all over the sky. It was really beautiful. We each took a broom and played with dragonflies. We laughed happily and chased after it, and before we knew it, it was dark.

There are more and more people enjoying the cool, and the bridge is crowded. The stars in the sky also quietly ran out to join in the fun, and the beautiful sky was like a night pearl embedded in black satin.

Everyone chatted together, and there was an old man who had a story. He likes Rong and me very much. We are his most loyal listeners. After telling one story after another, we hit him on the back and "cut the sugarcane" (that is, one hand picked up the meat on his back and the other hand cut it) and kept asking how much we had. Cut it a hundred times for a story.

When I am tired, I lie on the cool bed and watch the stars and the moon. My mother gave me a fan to drive away mosquitoes. She told me which is the Big Dipper, which is the Antarctic fairy, which is the Cowherd, which is the Weaver Girl, and their children, as well as the Weaver Girl's shuttle ... It is always full of daydreams, imagining that I will become a star in the sky, or picking a little star and lighting it at home is not bad. Maybe God knows my wish, so he scattered a lot of little stars, that is, fireflies. We rushed to catch them, sometimes we caught a dozen, put them in small bags made of thin cloth, watched them twinkle, and felt that we had picked stars. ...

Today's summer night, it's much more comfortable to sleep with the air conditioner on. But I miss the past, stars, the moon, stories and fireflies. ...

When summer prose blooms in February, the days in June become more affectionate than before, and the rain that should have rained in spring actually competes in summer.

The clock on the wall points to one in the morning. Thunder rumbles and lightning is like a ghost. In an instant, the rainstorm is like a note, and the dense rain seems to be telling a full heart and tears.

The sky opens its big black mouth, as if to swallow up the whole earth. Wind and rain hit the windows and the factory began to drip.

The car platform is running normally. I can sit quietly and listen to the rain in summer. How can I introduce myself forcefully? The rain is getting louder and louder, covering up the roar of the machine, and the line of sight is gradually blurred. Even the brow was stained with the smell of rain, so the whole person went through the rain curtain to look for the beauty that had passed away.

On such a silent rainy night, I always miss a place, some people and some things for no reason. However, I can no longer hear the insects singing there, the small sounds hidden in the grass, and the dragonflies dancing by the pool.

My eyes blurred all bright objects and ached in despair. The green grass is calling me, the cicada is tempting me, and dramatic scene changes are bothering me. Once, the wings eager to spread their wings and fly, now, listless and drooping, have lost the courage to fly. And I, a trivial raindrop arranged by the god of fate, have no choice but to sigh.

The rain outside the window, drop by drop, rustles, is it a playful smile? Still crying sadly? The window glass reflected a gaunt face, and the rain blurred the shadow through the cracks in the broken window frame. Countless drops of rain, like countless tears, are dense and scattered, silently in broken walls. The rain in Jiangnan is endless and lingering. I don't know, whose injury is this rainy night? Hurt who?

In front of the Shuige Hall, the local accent depends on each other. But it's not that simple. On the moonlit night, cicadas are still ringing in the low pine mountain, but no one listens. Cicada chirps in some hot and dry air, but it looks a little pale and monotonous.

On midsummer night, the yard is full of air conditioners instead of laughter and laughter. Moonlight is like water on the ground, scattered and flashing.

You measured the distance between people's hearts. You said that their people are close at hand, but their hearts are far away.

You also said that the day when people's hearts are closely connected is the moment when you come back.

It is also such a midsummer night that I watched you in a daze and fled here like a meteor. I don't understand. I only remember a powerful sentence you left me before you left: remember to get rid of the mud.

I remember that since I heard your words, I have been looking for the trace of the lotus. I even hope to meet you in the lotus pond on a moonlit night.

This year is 2008, and you have been away for three years. I will always remember you, the elder sister who grew up with me, and the persistent you. I have always kept the picture of being with you in my mind, although it is a bit vague.

I lie flat on the early ground beside the lotus pond, looking at the stars in the sky and the empty environment around me. I feel the breath of nature and want to stay away from the noise and hypocrisy.

Gradually, gradually, I fell asleep. In a daze, I seem to hear you calling me. I felt a sharp pain when I woke up. Around, there is gradually some coolness. I stood up and looked at the boundless starry sky, thoughtfully for a long time. ...

I walked slowly to the pool, watched the lotus blossom brilliantly, and chewed what you left me: the mud came out without dye. I seem to understand something. I turned around and looked at the lights in the village. I think this place where I grew up is so strange.

There are gorgeous fireworks in the distance. You once said that the place where fireworks are set off is the root of hypocrisy. I want to know why I know every word of yours by heart and remember it so clearly.

Look up. Meditate.

Looking back on those lost years, my heart is full of sadness.

Three years ago, you left in the wind and walked so freely. Three years later, I want to follow in your footsteps, embark on a radiant road and leave. Maybe it's just for that little song.

I cut my messy clothes, leaned against the tree and stared at the sky for a long time. ...

I'm confused. I'm at a loss.

Can you tell me the answer?

This moonlit midsummer night

I don't know where to go.

I want to imitate your free and easy, your stubbornness

Maybe I won't be confused.

Moonlight fragments

Weave my thoughts of you.

perhaps

Only the collision of hearts.

It will make me miss you so much.

Ideas are inseparable.

What a mess.

Those memories

I screened it carefully.

A little unhappy

Let it fade away.

The gradual passage of time

I read your helplessness that day.

That kind of sadness

That rebellion

I understand Su Shi's "Ten Years of Life and Death ..."

Although I'm not as miserable as Su Shi.

But I am as sad and sentimental as he is.

night

Quiet, quiet ...

Summer night prose 4 Summer night, from time to time, filter out the coolness and noise of the day again and again. As the night deepened, I finally completely changed my silence. At this time, I found my home. When loneliness is completely broken again, thoughts will flood at will in the exhibition.

I like the balcony on summer nights very much, because it is a place where imagination and comfort are generated. During the day, it is called the balcony, and the veritable sunshine will pour in here unscrupulously, which makes people daunting. Only at night, the gentle wind blows in slowly. Although it is Xia Feng, it has turned the heat of the day into tenderness, and it also contains a little cool breath, which is a kind of ridicule, appropriate and comfortable. Every time I come here from the screen, there will always be some reverie, hoping to fly and ripple here. Fatigue and drowsiness seem to be refreshed instantly, replacing an elegant, exquisite and concentrated chic. Looking at the distant lights, those shining expectations seem to be connected in series in an instant and turned into a long flash.

Summer night, at most, is to go out and come to the strange garden where summer insects chirp. Whether it is grass or bushes, there is beauty and humility hidden, waiting for a night of care and wandering. The subtle release from intense day to night will only sublime in the deep heart. Holding the call of the string moon and the string of attachment, you are either thoughtful, arbitrary, dissolute or naughty. There is no dodge, no cover-up. Just turn over and over those full accumulated wishes and long-simmering romances, peel them off layer by layer, and beat them over and over again until they are completely shattered. ......

I am willing to pick up garbage in a relatively long and short summer night, because this is a dry country that is not suitable for sleeping. Picking them up and picking them up, even those hazy ones that don't mind, love to put them in the basket and eat them again and again until the basket can no longer hold them.

When there is no wind or waves, it is most difficult to be liberated by that air conditioner. In this way, those who care about beauty, those persistent temptations, have become the burden of electrical waste and the network, and are fixed as the ugly luxury and disorderly publicity of the night.

Waiting, a summer rain, is the best cooperation and ultimate partner of night and rain. In this night, the rain should be in harmony. Why is it so beautiful? The night in the rain has danced the connotation and extension of rain thoroughly; The rain at night makes the deepening of the night and solid transportation particularly difficult. Heaven and earth are harmonious, rational and natural, and welcome the care of the night rain; Man and emperor, spiritual desire, taste in rainy night. Devotion and wet intoxication are met and implemented in this long-lost space and intensive experience.

Summer night.

Summer Night Prose 5 After a rain in late summer, the summer heat suddenly flew away. After a hearty meal, I leisurely leaned against the door frame and felt that the night was particularly beautiful and moving.

Twilight began to close, darkness began to cover the earth, and a lone wheel rose from the horizon, emitting cold light. Although I feel very quiet around, I can still vaguely hear the noise coming from the distance. The lonely moon is still hanging in the air, surrounded by darkness, just like a helpless traveler wandering around. Black, chaotic, unfathomable, I don't know what to inspire, make people think, and make people fear. Perhaps it is for this reason that God made us do things during the day and sleep at night! Although the village where we live is a bit remote, the people in the village are still very busy. And you listen, in the market, the cries of buying and selling echo; Beside the square, a dynamic music spread and rippled in the village. ...

Inadvertently, the moon has crossed the horizon, passed through the treetops, bypassed the houses, gradually brightened up a lot, and finally hung high in the air. The moon, scattered with bundles of light, hangs over the earth. For an instant, it seemed that there was a layer of silver gauze around it, which was light and thin and vague, as if there was nothing. Careful observation reveals that the moon has a pale pink face. The moon is actually like a girl. When her lover takes good care of her, her white face is a little pink. As my mother urged me to leave, my heart was still intoxicated.

The moonlight is hazy, and I can't help but indulge in it. Suddenly, a loud frog brought my thoughts back. Oh, dear! The nature concert that has already started is full of atmosphere. "Come on, I can't sleep anyway. I might as well listen to this rare concert! " I whispered. The quack kept pouring into my ears. Although they are all quacks, their respective phonology is different: either tall and straight as a peak or clear as a stream; Or vast as the sea, such as condensed oil; There is a feeling of floating, but also a heavy, deep, shy homesickness like a girl ... vaguely, in the sound of frogs, I also heard unknown insects, crisp and sharp. Accompanied by frogs, it is sometimes passionate, sometimes deep and tactfully, sometimes short and powerful, and sometimes long and trickling. Gradually, more and more musicians are involved, and the voices can be vaguely distinguished.

A cool breeze came on me, accompanied by the crisp "Ding Rinrin", which made me feel refreshed! Outside the window, the branches rustled in the moonlight by the breeze. It seems that the tree enjoys it, so it keeps bowing its head, pointing to the beauty here and enjoying the mystery there, just like me. The thick fragrance was smelled by my dull nose, and I don't know whose flowers bloom at night.

In this summer night, when the night sky is deep, the moon is faint with shame, the insects are singing tactfully, the frogs are singing continuously and the breeze is lingering, I am intoxicated and forget the time and sleepiness. Finally, I fell asleep on the pillow with this peace.

In June, the light came from the shade of the tree, and if there was no moonlight, it would continue. Mottled broken white like sparkling pearls, rolling on the ground with the wind. It would be more poetic if there were piano music at this time. Moonlight and piano rhyme interweave, and through the fine leaves, the midsummer night becomes more and more quiet.

I wake up in the silent night, and my thoughts are like floating fluorescence. I calmed down and listened to the sound of heaven and earth meeting at night. Like a gentle serenade in my heart. When a rhyme is associated with memory, it has a different kind of beauty.

It's inconvenient during the day, so I can only miss you in my heart. It will only be active when the night is shrouded. I don't have a heart. Is love an elf at night and only grows in a noiseless environment? Probably not. Even on a sunny day, a small flower will suddenly soften the affection.

Take a walk in the Woods along the winding path. Night, midsummer night, midsummer night after rain.

This is a long and narrow green belt. The road is not hardened and the road surface is wet and muddy. Few people come at ordinary times, and it is quieter after the rain. I walked through the bamboo forest with fences and guardrails, strolled on the lawn surrounded by crape myrtle, and then took a leisurely walk to feel the softness and tranquility of summer.

There is a barbecue garden in the distance, crowded and bustling. I'm used to being quiet, so liveliness doesn't agree with me. Although I don't hate this noise, I don't like this scene either. As I walked, the noise was finally drowned in the night.

Last night, several couples met here. The summer in June is so considerate. An unexpected rain turned down all the uninvited guests and reserved a quiet place for me.

Summer is like a woman holding a piano, gently stroking her fingers and singing silently. Listen to summer heart movement, tender feelings beyond words. In such a quiet and soft atmosphere, any tough guy who draws a sword will suddenly feel limp and weak, let alone interweave with me in the plain and quiet Mu Jing.

Walking slowly, I walked into the depths. Although it is a full moon night in June, the silver basin has not yet risen and the light is dim. Bamboo has no mottled silhouette of the day, and a floc hangs on the bamboo pole. Willow droops like a beautiful woman's soft hair. Masson pine is crowded and dark. And that slim little poplar tree, proudly looking up, glowing with youth. Everything in front of me makes me sigh: what a wonderful summer.

Yes, Xia is no longer a shallow and simple beautiful girl. Grow into a big girl's summer, not afraid of wind and rain, not afraid of the scorching sun, not afraid of scorched earth, lush, tenacious and calm. The plump figure is mature and charming, quiet and elegant. At the moment, although summer is not as radiant and beautiful as daytime, there is a kind of beauty that I pity and admire more. Plain, pure, calm, quiet, a wisp of soft wind blowing, fragrance floating. How perfect it is to meet such a drunken mind!

I put away the idea of escape and stared at the lovely summer with deep affection. I know that every time I miss you, I will hear my inner call, as if I saw you smiling and waving at me. Facing the soft and elegant summer, my heart is pounding and my soul is moving. At this time, I want to burn incense, clean my hands, clear my heart and filter my thoughts. On a quiet and solemn midsummer night, I said, I will worship you forever, my summer.

A rain in early summer fell under the night, and gradually, the heat wave brought by the day began to gather, and the night was submerged, but the lights and feasts showed their shadows in the misty rain. People who calm down don't bother the smoke booths or indulge in Qiao Yun, just lean against the window and listen to the rain quietly.

The misty rain in the early summer night blurs the sight, narrows the distance between distant mountains, and makes people's calls reach your city on the horizon. Looking back, I counted the raindrops alone and hit the bluestone board under the eaves. Broken waves, like my dream, shattered all over the floor. Lonely person, let my footsteps pass through your thoughts, and let my dreams turn green again in the misty rain in this early summer night. Tick-tock, answer, listen to the rain in the early summer night, and you will have a stream, quietly flowing your thoughts. Open the window according to the rhythm that can withstand the heartbeat, close your eyes and feel the raindrops flying over the window lattice and touching your cheeks. They are cool, but they neutralize the severity and low eyebrows on my blushing face. I picked up an old story, listened to the drizzle outside the window and savored it slowly.

I haven't heard the rain so quietly for a long time. Maybe I was caught in the red dust trivia. Maybe the noise drowned out the comfort of the rain? Maybe I haven't had such a lonely luxury for a long time? ..... Neither! It's not that I don't want to hear it If I am afraid, I will take myself into the vortex of missing and never leave the circle of feelings again.

Lilacs are blooming in the alley in the rain. Has the girl who likes cloves come? In this early summer rain, I am looking for the shadow of a man with a broken umbrella. A drop of rain lost her eyes and put on makeup, showing the simplicity of missing people. This rain in early summer sounds like a harmonious melody. In the dead of night, listening to its dreamlike voice in the dream, leaning against an idle window, all thoughts are stranded. Just listen quietly.

In early summer, the drizzle outside the window rustled, wetting clusters of roses, and there were not many scattered in the night. The drizzle rustles in our hearts, and people crush their feelings and throw them in the rain. At night, we can't see the rain flower. Open the window, explore the window and let the rain fall in your palm. Along the vein of palm print, it flows into staggered traces. How many grievances can the depth of the emotional line accommodate? My face clings to the window, and the drizzle in early summer falls on my lips, but it tastes astringent, just like my tears in the still night. I hope this tear will not be abandoned in the drizzle in early summer!