The beak of the bird is sticky,

I want to call for winter to come, and the night is long.

Whose hometown is the gray eaves house?

And wait for the spring solstice to visit the bird.

-------------

A typical white wall and gray tile, the horse head wall pinned high hopes on the children and grandchildren, the poet is chic and wanton, but he has already started a family, and he has a wife to work to support the family to raise the poet such a casual temperament.

"This is my uncle's wife, if it weren't for her, with my uncle's character all these years, I am afraid that she would have been living on the streets a long time ago." The poet laughed at himself. In fact, with the ability of a poet, he can support his family by being invited to give lectures from time to time, and it is really impossible to live on the streets. But the psalmist is grateful for his wife, who has always given so much for himself and his family, and for being a good husband.

"Repay that virtue in front of children!" The poet's wife's face flushed and she was a little embarrassed. Kyushu thought of the interaction between mom and dad, and it was also so warm.

"Come with Auntie, don't listen to him talk about those big truths, Auntie will bring you some delicious food." As he spoke, the poet's wife led Kyushu into the door, and the autumnal equinox followed.

The long and deep path leads to an open-air patio, and the light and soft sunlight dispels the dampness and cold around it, giving it a kind of warm and affectionate warmth.

Greeting Kyushu and the autumn equinox to sit in the house, the elegant furnishings are full of ink, and even the wood grain of the pure wooden tables and chairs is like a picture full of meaning.

A small incense burner drove away the insects that did not smell of books, and hid wherever they built their own houses. On the contrary, this incense gives the people who have Chinese ink on their chests a bit of coldness and calmness.

The air has been a lot drier these days, and although there is a lot of drizzle in the south of the Yangtze River as always, the slight dryness and coldness can still be clearly felt from the breath in the nostrils.

He sent her husband to prepare some food, and the poet's wife brought a lot of wild herbs. The cleaned wild vegetables are permeated with the unique aroma of earth and grass, and the crystal water droplets hang on them, exuding a somewhat moist smell, reflecting the eyebrows of the people sitting around them.

"Children, eat some autumn vegetables," said the poet's wife, "and it is a characteristic custom in my hometown of Lingnan, and at this time you should eat some autumn vegetables, that is, purslane." The elders say that this is a health thing, and I don't have to think about it, I don't have to think about it, I think about what it does, anyway, it's good to eat clearly. ”

After a while, the poet took the food and began to talk to his wife, "I found out that the swallows had built a nest over there in the kitchen." ”

"Isn't that a good thing? What does he do? The poet's wife, apparently having discovered the swallow's nests, "came to the south for some cold days." ”

"Yes, too, the chirping is also lively...... said the poet, "you have not seen the bustle of the return of the swallows in the spring in the north." ”

The poet and his wife said lightly, inviting a person and a fairy to eat at will. From time to time, the poet said a few words of truth with insight and feeling, and was looked at by a person and a fairy with envy and seriousness, and then disliked by his wife.

The shallow and faint quietness is warm and intoxicating, just like the spring sunshine that circulates under the eaves of the northern treetops and in the bird's nest bird's nest in the spring of the following year.

Such days passed quickly, and the poet's children went to study at the famous universities in the north, leaving the old husband and wife at home, and rarely met the juniors who caught their eyes, so they stayed for a few more days, until the autumn equinox was time to return to the four o'clock, and then said goodbye to the poet.