一傍晚时分,爹总算葬到那堆黄土里去了。程长岭站在村子前的槐树林子里,忽然感觉出一丝凄凉来。在爹的棺木被村里人艰难地挪动着往地穴里安放的时候,亲眷们哭号着,燃烧起来的纸器“噼噼啪啪”地燎着槐树叶子。那时候,这种凄凉还没有冒出来。现在,唢呐师傅们算清了工钱,骑上摩托车走了;看热闹的村人看葬礼结束,“呼”一下作鸟兽散;就连不太重要的亲眷们也收拾收拾,纷纷回家去了。这槐树林子里忽然就静得让人心里难受。长岭想想父亲,一个那样善良本分的老人,前几天还在说着话,做着事儿,顶多过了几十个小时光 One evening, my father was finally buried in the pile of loess. Cheng Changling standing in front of the village of Sophora tree, suddenly feel a trace of desolation. When the father’s coffin was hard-pressed by the village people to place in the crypt, the relatives cried, and the burning paper machine crushed the leaves of locust tree. At that time, this desolation has not come out. Now, the master of suona count the wages, riding a motorcycle to go; see the lively village to see the end of the funeral, “call ” look for animals and birds scattered; even less important relatives clean up, have to go home . This locust tree suddenly static people feel uncomfortable. Changling think of his father, a kind man of the day, still talking, doing things, at most, after dozens of hours