在家乡的夏天的词典里,是找不到烦躁和炽热的,滋生着的是风韵,渗透着的是诗意。黄昏时分,倚在房前那高大的香樟树下,听风拂过时树叶欣然扬起的“哗哗”声,好像是流水撞击发出的音乐。当我坐下来,听着蝉声混着活泼的山泉流水声,涌上心头的只有“清凉”二字了。夕阳在天边涂上一抹诗意的红色。远处的池塘边,赶鸭的孩子耐不住那一湾清水的诱惑,便和几只嘎嘎乱叫的鸭子一同下了水,一头扎进河里不见了。再一会 In my hometown summer dictionary I could not find restlessness and glowingness. I was born with charm and infiltrated poetry. Twilight, leaning against the tall camphor tree in front of the house, listening to the wind blowing when the leaves are pleased to raise “clap ” sound, as if the water hit the music. When I sit down and listen to the cicadas mixed with lively spring water, my heart is only “cool ” word. Sunset in the sky painted a touch of poetic red. Far away from the pond, the child who was driving the ducks could not bear the temptation of the clear water of the bay, and they dropped the water together with several quacked ducks and plunged them into the river and disappeared. Another time