1. Spring is like a masterpiece, while summer is like a quatrain.

2. I haven't paid attention to cicadas for a long time. My ears are busy listening to the sound of cars, the knocking of variety shows, the impatient voice of the ticket lady, and the secret voice of my friends attached to my ears in a low voice ... I should find a clear and clean river to wash my ears, because I can't hear cicadas.

3. So, I don't know when the summer crossed the threshold and came in. Until that day, when I was in the class of literature history, all of a sudden, all the cicadas cried at the same time, which startled me. My gesture of raising a pen ran aground in mid-air, and I couldn't comment on the invisible and intangible sound in front of me! What a surprise It sucked my whole mind, just like iron sand rushing to a magnet. But when I held my breath and listened intently, all of a sudden, I stopped talking. This cicada scared me again! Like a rope, the cicada tied my heart tightly, and suddenly it was loosened without warning, so my heart spread out unprepared, like a wave struggling to jump into the sky and accidentally falling to the beach!

4. I don't know when summer crossed the threshold!

5. It's a window with leaves. The small round and flat leaves are like flowers and birds on the door curtain, which is certainly more lively. As soon as the wind blows over, they "brush" and sway. I seem to hear laughter, much like a group of little urchins swinging in a game! The wind is a behind-the-scenes worker, responsible for pushing them into the sky, while cicadas are cheerleaders, trying to make noise in the branches. There is no referee.

6. I can't help thinking of my childhood, my childhood. Because these pleasant notes are too like a tape, let me pick up the sounds of my childhood one by one.

7. The cicada is picked up first.

8. At that time, the most exciting thing was not to listen to cicadas but to catch them. Children always like to put everything that makes him curious in the palm of their hands and enjoy it, and I am no exception. When I was in primary school, classes were divided into afternoon classes, which was an advantage only for children in grades one and two. It can be seen that I was still young. There are four roads to go to school, one of which is along the river, with tall trees and shade on the shore, which often covers half the sky. Although there are also rural farmhouses nearby, they are inaccessible. For us, it is really far and deep, which makes people feel scared. However, there are always several trips a week, especially in summer. When it's the afternoon shift, we always go that way together in calling friends, with no other purpose, just to catch cicadas.

9. Can you imagine a group of primary school students, wearing khaki shorts, yellow hats, or sling pleats, obediently sticking the elastic band of "Bowl Hat" to their faces, putting their schoolbags on the side of the road, not afraid of falling into the river, not afraid of snagging their clothes, not afraid of skin bleeding, just jumping into the arms of the tree one foot at a time? Just because there are cicadas in the book. Cicada is an attacking wave, which accidentally falls into the lake of children's hearts, so the lake throws thousands of ripples like ten thousand ropes to arrest the wave. "Caught! Caught it! " Someone shouted in the tree. Someone below quickly opened the matchbox and put the cicada in. I dare not look again, for fear that it will fly away. That kind of tension is like the Arabian Nights, when the fisherman tricked the troll into the ancient altar and quickly sealed the spell and never dared to touch it again. However, the flimsy wings have left a season of flicker in the children's two suns.

11. In the classroom, everyone shows off the small animals in the pencil box-cicadas, longicorn beetles and scarabs. Some trade cicadas for cows, and some trade scarabs for cicadas. Everyone exchanged gifts with each other, and some begged for a few leaves to feed the little baby in his pencil box or matchbox. At that time, opening a pencil box was as careful as opening a safe. When my heart itched, I only dared to take a look at a small crack with one eye. In class, the teacher talked loudly in front of us. We stared at the front, but our two hands were playing with the "cornucopia" in the drawer. Our ears listened intently to the sound of the beetle flapping its wings in the pencil case. The more we listened, the more elated we became. We couldn't help but open a crack, put our fingers in it and press the beetle to make it quiet, or touch the cicada with its wings folded and pull the long horns of the longicorn beetle. However, occasionally, if you are not careful, you will be bitten by a longicorn beetle. He probably doesn't like the long, flat pencil box full of small holes!

11. All summer, we happily forced cicadas to move from the branches to the pencil box, but the pencil box never turned into a music box, and cicadas were still chirping in the tall trees by the river. Throughout the summer, cicadas have no shortage of alto or bass, and they are still perfect chords.

12. You can catch cicadas, but you can't catch cicadas.

13. Summer is the season of sound, with rain, thunder, frogs, birds and cicadas singing. The cicada sound is enough to represent summer, so summer is like a quatrain.

14. Listen to cicadas in the morning and think of their nobleness. Cicada should be a hermit among winged people! Live high in the treetops, eat wind and drink dew, and don't eat fireworks. The cicada sound is particularly light in the dim morning light, as far as near, as if there were nothing. After a cicada sang, my heart became transparent and clear, and I had an understanding of "where to make dust". Cicada is also Zen.

15. The quatrains should be recited, or a few words should be added to sing. Cicada is a chorus of nature; With beautiful timbre and clear rhythm, a quatrain is recited. This quatrain is not in the anthology of Tang poems, nor in the collection of Song poems, nor in Wang Wei's or Li Bai's. It is a lyric poem written by cicadas' feelings about the seasons and their feelings for midsummer. Poetry has its own flavor of life, which is a little simple and almost natural, and some are broad-minded and elegant. More often, especially when they all stop their voices, I think there seem to be many heroic and tragic stories to tell in their minds. Perhaps, it is a lyric frontier poem.

16. There were cicadas in the afternoon, but it was a little noisy. Like a group of minstrels, they meet unexpectedly in the shade and rest their feet idly. Lala is mixed, they talk about the sky and inquire about the seasons, but no one wants to write poems, so there are waves of voices, lack of rhythm and rhyme. They also exchanged wandering directions, but they were not enthusiastic, because "wandering" actually had no direction.

17. I like walking while listening to cicadas, at dusk. Walking into the world of cicadas is like enjoying a concert, if you know how to listen. Sometimes we also complain that the world is getting uglier and uglier, and there is too much noise in modern civilization; In fact, in a pool of turbid water, isn't there a pool of clear water? There are also so-called "sounds of nature" in the sound picture interwoven with machine sounds. We are just too busy to pass by the beautiful things without knowing it. I am too dedicated to myself, and the lens of life only captures the big close-ups of my emotions and sorrows, and everything else is a vague background. If we can step back and look around, maybe we will find that the whole pattern has changed. What changes is not the pattern itself, but our vision. So, once in a while, slow down and let your eyes browse the world at will with the greatest possibility, and we will suddenly realize; The world is still dressing up all the time. And what is more refreshing than listening to cicadas while walking? Listening to friends and relatives, this is our common experience. It's not difficult for us to listen to everything, is it? ?

18. Listening is also an art. The vastness of nature is the best sound equipment. Imagine teams of male cicadas gathering their wings at different treetops, like symphony orchestras standing on the stage. As long as a cicada makes a sound, then the sounds will come out of the cage. They are dedicated to you with the most beautiful timbre, every word is true, and every sentence comes from dantian. They have a distinct sense of rhythm, and different rhythms express different moods. Sometimes they sing in chorus, sometimes they sing in unison, and there are also solos, including chords, which are clear from high to low. They don't need a conductor or a score. They are born singers. Singing is like a flowing cloud, which makes people feel worried and wander in it. Another example is Peng Tao, and another example is the stormy waves, beating the emotions that have settled in your heart. When you see them in an instant, you will feel that the cicada sound has snatched away the light sorrow that you are tightly holding in your hand like a wild wave. The shortness of cicada's voice suddenly came to an abrupt end at the highest note, more like a splendid article being suddenly torn, and the sonorous words scattered all over the floor were thrown to the ground like Shisheng Jin, and then the silence became a few fragments, leaving people with some melancholy and some sadness. Isn't it a song of life? Cicadas. ?

19. And every year, the cicada sound remains the same, still like a quatrain, even and even.

About the author of "The Poem of Summer":

My name is He Zisu, female, handsome and fond of food. I graduated from a famous university of traditional Chinese medicine at the age of 25. In addition to a diploma of practicing Chinese medicine, I also hold a pastry chef, a dietitian and a TEM-8 certificate in English. I can prick needles in my left hand, cook vegetables in my right hand, and knead a hundred refined diamonds into soft fingers with both hands. In this fiercely competitive society, I work hard, tirelessly, find a job and find a partner. The years are quiet. I cook frogs in warm water, occasionally add a few drops of spicy oil, stir-fry with soy sauce and vinegar, stir-fry the five flavors of Kaori's true feelings, sprinkle some plum wine with romance, bake two blueberry and green tea cakes, live wantonly, lose an hour hand to boost morale, and cook a bowl of bitter medicine to relieve grief when crying.