父亲树桩般地蹲在田头,似在侧耳倾听,又似在出神凝望,脸上却是一片茫然。这个春天已近尾声,纵横交错的田畴不再是一片空荡荡的黑色,而是盖上了一层淡绿色的地毯。从山谷中走出的清凉的风,在父亲身边游来荡去,温热的阳光,抚摸着那张刻满沧桑的老脸。父亲脚下,就是他耕耘了一辈子的土地,年过花甲的父亲在这片土地度过了四十多个春秋,从生产队长到普通农民,从风华正茂到两鬓斑白,每一把泥土他都捏过,每一寸土地也都浸润过他的汗水,他和庄稼一样在土地里生长着,既能伸出玉米那样宽阔绿润的叶 Squatting like a father stump in the fields, seems to hear the ears, but also seems to stare, his face is a loss. This spring is nearing completion. The crisscross Tian domain is no longer an empty black, but a light green carpet. From the valley out of the cool wind, wandering around the father, the warm sunshine, stroking the vicissitudes of the old face covered. His father, that is, he cultivated the land for life, over the age of the father spent more than 40 years in this land of spring and autumn, from production captain to ordinary peasant, from the prime of life to the two shad white, each of the earth he Have been squeezed over, every inch of land is also infiltrating his sweat, he grows in the same land as crops, both to extend the broad green leaves of corn