June wheat yellow

In June, standing in rural roadside, see the field of wheat, the pieces of mature immediately have a touches: golden brown.

That kind of golden, is the painter cannot concocting colour; The region is a poet in light of not feeling. It was that simple color, in rural fields, silently into the golden!  herve leger dress stores

June fields, MaiLang flipping. Bustling in the wind, hustled off after running, harvest of thick breath just don't hide not yan send out. In the very thick the straw, the look is subsequently PI rang and surprised fly a few sparrows, ShuRan leaps, oblique fly away.

Now of June, never from the morning till the evening as busy as a bee. The field of wheat, this practice will be ripe, this yellow is yellow. You look at full split when grain is jumping out, people don't worry, just a beauty, wheat combined harvesters after a rumbling other delectable to wheat grain storehouse in it! Looking at a ground MaiCha together brush, let a person remember the old man shaved head. The old man stood in tanabe, still thinking about once the sickle moon, brilliant as posture is how the dim go down every day.

The country's wheat, is no longer the single color landscape. Those pine-covered gloomy cotton seedling, by the people, food and clothing to be bestowed favor on newly outside, cotton and wheat land trenchant, seemed like a knife sharp cut open. Wheat, or never extermination, pieces of year, dots, annual golden lush! Let a person remember the country people - silently youth, silently old. The golden wheat, ordinary like rural people.  herve leger dress supplies 

Lying in June, look at catcher in the shining sun grain, listen to the voice of the wheat harvest started. Wheat yellow, sunny sky like a giant palm, rub moves, a burst of wheat grain township with the breeze...

In June, wheat yellow.

In June, my mind was gloomy, spit green green.