天空低垂,夜鸦已在崖上飞旋徘徊,放羊人的歌声,在弯弯的山道上忽远忽近。风刚开始嘬着嘴,灌木丛摇晃着,蓬草互相拥抱,碎屑起伏,然后,一阵似有似无的停顿。在石头嶙峋的高处,一只松鼠一动不动。风再往前几步,将干瘪的酸枣砸下来,落进翻耕的虚土里瞬间即逝,无声无息。一月,都在沉睡的梦靥里,包括春夏秋里不停忙碌的乡亲们,都像跑累了的马匹,用尽了洪荒之力。但当风席卷着黄沙颗粒疯狂来袭,鸟声叽咕,小兽夹着尾巴逃窜,那些昂然的枯树顷 Sky drooping, Night Crow has been flying in the cliff wandering, Sheep singing, in the winding mountain road suddenly far and near. The wind just began pouting, shrubs shrubs, Peng grass hugged each other, debris fluctuations, and then, while a seemingly without pause. At the height of the rock, a squirrel was motionless. The wind a few steps forward, the wretched jujube drop down, fell into the tillage in the empty soil fleeting, silent. In January, all sleeping dreams, including spring and summer, keep busy folks, are like tired horses, exhausted the power of the prehistoric. However, when the wind swept through the particles of yellow sand crazy attack, birds roar, small mammals fleeing their tails, those exquisite dead trees