迎着夕阳，站在昏沉欲睡的大地上，                               佝偻的身影拉得好长好长，影子的故事里是数不尽的沧桑……                                                                      
 布满老茧的枯掌，握着锃亮的锄头，似盘古开天拍打着阳光，                                                                      余辉点点撒进了泥土的芬芳，                                     汗滴化成了甘霖滋润着禾苗茁壮成长。                          
                                                                                     多少个光阴，穿梭着时光，                                        健壮的小伙，熬成了如今的模样。                                吧哒着旱烟，烟圈里有着凡尘浮世的梦想。                      
                                                                                       曾几何，也思念着隔村的小芳，                                 
 三尺红盖头的花轿，娇滴滴的新娘；                        山那边的高楼，爬着楼梯，睡在别人的屋顶之上；          不需喂料冒着黑烟的四脚兽，呼拉拉尘土飞扬，豪迈地不用挥鞭也能摆出拉风的模样……                              
                                                                                        夕阳慢慢沉下了山岗，炊烟袅起了米饭的香，               村口大婶吆喝着，几十年也不曾改变的腔，                 “回来了”一声应呼，乡野慢慢沉进了夜的梦乡。