童年的炊烟,在我的瞳孔里,是一道美丽诱人的风景线。当夕阳笑藏山头的时候,家家户户烟囱里冒出的袅袅烟柱,被微风撕扯成银丝青线,然后慢慢地织成一条灰白的飘带,围着村腰轻匝细绕,似山岚,像风水,若隐若现地浮游灵动在村廓,把生我养我的那个小村,虚幻成一座蓬莱仙岛。我时常伫立村外凝神静望,我的小村,在那一刻,就被炊烟涂抹成一幅 Childhood smoke, in my pupil, is a beautiful and attractive landscape. When the sunset laughed mountains, the curl of smoke from every household chimney was ripped by the breeze into a silvery green line, and then slowly woven into a gray streamers around the village waist gently turns fine, like Shanlan, like Feng shui, looming floating planted in the village profile, I gave birth to my village, illusory into a Penglai Island. I often stand quiet outside the village watching, my village, at that moment, it was smeared into a smoke