春之怀古张晓风春天必然是这样的：从绿意内敛的山头，一把雪再也撑不住了，噗嗤的一声，将冷脸笑成花面，一首澌澌然的歌便从云端唱到山麓，从山麓唱到低低的荒村，唱入篱落，唱入一只小鸭的黄蹼，唱入溶溶的春泥———软如一床新翻的棉被的春泥。那样娇，那样敏感，却又那样? Spring nostalgia The ancient Zhang Xiaofeng spring must have been like this: From the hillock of introverted greenery, a snow can no longer sustain it, and slamming, will laugh the cold face into a flower face, a dazzling song will sing from the clouds From the foothills, sing from the foothills to the low deserted villages, sing into the hedgerow, sing into a yellow duckling of a duckling, and sing into the thawed spring mud --- as soft as a newly-turned spring quilt. So delicate, so sensitive, but that?