父亲从田地归家,锄头靠墙根一放,洗把手,坐在堂屋门槛上,扯上半张小孩子的作业本,指头一捋,折好,卷成简;自家炕出来的烟叶,细细切成金丝,三根指头撮上一撮,纸筒里一装,父亲便可以在袅袅而起的苍青色里,闻得见草木的清香。谷雨前后,杨花落尽,子规夜啼,樱桃在我家枝头红了,纷纷提着小灯笼告诉父亲:春 Father went home from the field, hoe by the wall of a put, wash your hands, sitting on the threshold of the house, pulled half of the child’s homework, fingers a 捋, folded, rolled into Jane; their own kang out of the tobacco, thin Cut into gold, three fingers summarized a pinch of paper, paper tube installed, my father will be in the curl of blue sky, smell the fragrance of vegetation. Before and after the valley rain, Yang Hua make up, Zi Yue night cry, cherry branches in my home red, have carried a small lantern to tell his father: Spring