一大早,钱罐子就蹲在家门口不远处的地埂上抽旱烟。身后是灰蒙蒙的村庄。夏秋的时候苗木旺盛,绿树茵茵,青灰的屋脊掩映在杂花碧树里,有几分妩媚。到了冬天,只有铅灰一种色调——干硬的阴沉沉的泥土、僵硬的灰塌塌的杨树柳树的枝干……到处是灰的影子。灰的不散的氤氲,似被一只无形的巨手无限拉长,绷着一根弦,没完没了晃荡在心头,烦闷得人喘不过气来!钱罐子的脚底下已经落了一层烟灰,冷风吹过, Early in the morning, the money jar squatted on the ground not far from the house on the smoke. Behind the gray village. When the summer and autumn seedlings strong, green trees, gray roofs nestled in miscellaneous flowers in the trees, somewhat charming. In the winter, only the shades of lead-gray - dry hard overcast dirt, stiff, ash-collapsed poplar willow branches ... everywhere are gray shades. Ash does not loose the coy, seems to be an immense infinite stretch of the giant, stretched a string, endless sloshing in my heart, bored breath! The jar has fallen under the foot of money Soot, cold wind blowing,