沿秋风的指向,接近乡情满溢的土地。爹的腰身佝偻了,娘的白发增多了,牛栏里,那头健壮的牯牛也老迈了许多,田地里,庄稼已经泛黄,在秋日阳光下起伏摇曳。老石磨还在,虽早已不再吱呀旋转,依然是乡村胸前一枚圆圆的勋章。打工,打工,如今的故乡已鲜见年轻兄弟姊妹们的身影。捧一把故乡泥土,黄褐色的细碎的土壤里,散发的依旧是祖辈的体味,掬捧老井泉水,清澈甘甜的水里,映出已显苍老的脸庞。 Follow the direction of the autumn wind, approaching the overflowing nostalgia of the land. Father’s waist shy, and the bride’s white hair increased, the bullpen, the other end of the robust cattle are also old, the fields, the crops have yellowed, swaying in the autumn sun. Old stone mill still, although no longer squeak ah rotation, still a rustic medal chest. Working, working, now hometown has rarely young brothers and sisters figure. Holding a hometown of soil, brown and crushed soil, the distribution of the ancestors is still the body odor, holding the old wells spring water, clear and sweet water, reflecting the already old face.