Modern poems about snow

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When we arrived at my hometown, it was already dusk in the mist and mist. My body was still bumping and my thoughts were still wandering, but the bus suddenly stopped, and with my luggage in one hand, I set foot on my homeland.

The snow is still falling, and the air is getting colder. Looking around, the land of Wandong has turned into a world of ice sculptures and snow sculptures. The graves in the wild villages and the haystacks in the cold forest were all covered with thick quilts, and they were having sweet dreams under the blessing of God. Everything was so quiet that you could even hear their even breathing. The mist of the wilderness and the smoke of the village merged into a melancholy cold cloud, curling up and lingering at the junction of heaven and earth, seeming to be interpreting a sad and sad myth of love. Only occasionally the sounds of cattle and sheep came leisurely, telling me that this was the countryside, the snowy twilight of my long-lost hometown, and the prelude to another peaceful and quiet night. Walk all over Guanshan to visit again, and use your heart that has experienced ups and downs to tap lightly.

I no longer have a good impression of the successive heavy snowfalls in early 2008. Think about it, even people who really love snow will be annoyed by the heavy snow falling one after another. First of all, the novelty disappears. Secondly, the cold white sky that fills the sky for a long time also makes people feel monotonous. What's more, there are snowstorms that happen from time to time. Thinking about the tragic car accidents I saw on the road, I still feel scared.

However, the snow dusk in my hometown can give me a lot of comfort. In my opinion, sunset, no matter where the sunset is, always gives people a profound artistic conception. Although it can make people think deeply and even enlighten life, it cannot avoid the sentimental mood. However, when it encounters falling snow, the sentimentality is diluted and tempered. It's so deep that it leaves only the connotation of melancholy lingering in my heart, which is intoxicating. If you are in your hometown, you will have the warmth of family affection and the fragrance of earth. Therefore, I have infinite love for the snow dusk in my hometown. This feeling is a sense of destination in life, like the turning leaves turning to their roots, like the floating duckweed yearning for the mud, and more like the yearning for the harbor of a ship that has been at sea for a long time. If the hometown is a warm harbor, then the falling snow at dusk is the fine waves caressing the ship's side when the ship enters the harbor, and the gentle wind blowing on the sailor's face.

I walked slowly in the boundless snow, the falling snow creaking under my feet. From time to time, the wind blew up, raising waves of wet and cold snowflakes, and fluttered on the face of the frozen wood. After walking for more than 10 minutes, I found that I had turned into an old man with white hair, but my heart was filled with infinite comfort.

Yes, this is my hometown, it is Xue Mu’s hometown, it is the hometown that haunts my soul and dreams. Here, you can see the warm fields and green crops, you can see the warm villages and far away relatives, you can hear the chirping of livestock and the singing of the streams, you can breathe the clean air, and you can eat delicious food even though it is not the same. Rich but most delicious meals can throw the hustle and bustle of the city and the worries of the world into the trash can, achieving spiritual detachment and spiritual rest. And these are all elements for people to settle down and live their lives. If anything is missing, life will not be complete.

Therefore, I am particularly attached to my hometown. My hometown is more like a spiritual magnetic field to me, with eternal attraction. No matter how far apart it is from the south of the Yangtze River to the north, no matter the ups and downs of honor or disgrace, once it is mentioned or remembered, thoughts will fly over the mountains and linger around the hometown. Some people say that people who are used to wandering will become tired if they stay in one place for a long time, even in their hometown. Due to my studies and work, I rarely go home throughout the year. I only stay there for five or six days at most at a time, so I have always loved my hometown. Every time I come here in a hurry and leave in a hurry, in the end, home will always become a dream in my heart. I don’t know whether it is a stop on the journey of life or a place where life belongs. It seems that all the hard work and pain of wandering in a foreign land are just to go home, and looking back is to go out for a better life. Perhaps, the real wanderer is always on the road.

Life is all about going home and setting out, like Huma in "Nineteen Ancient Poems", going from one battlefield to another, and when the north wind blows, the first thing that comes to mind is still that he was born. place.

Life is like a dream, with a sleeve of red dust, a wine shop in the rivers and lakes, and snow in my hometown at dusk. Today, I put aside the gains and sorrows, achievements and sentiments of a foreign country, and I no longer think about my departure in a few days. Everything is just to go home. I go home for the sake of going home. Let me open my arms, open my heart, and enjoy myself. Feel the snowy twilight in my hometown, listen to the voices of my loved ones, and truly be a child of my hometown. Just because this is the place where I was born and raised, just because I carry the breath of this land, just because I carry the genes of my relatives. As for whether I can still see this holy snow scene when I leave, I have no time to worry about it. Thinking of this, I couldn't help but smile as I faced the dusk snow flying all over the sky.