Stormy season - sweet fruit season

(Baonghean)-1.Excited, chirping, just passed the sunny school yard on the first day of school. Suddenly, the atmosphere was stirred by the cool breeze, by the scent of ripe milk. September - Autumn, a strange season, making people feel sad and thoughtful. Some people say, it is a step to stop and contemplate after the impetuousness and rush of Summer. Which poet, looking at the season of falling leaves, has the association that "the leaves spread yellow like kisses"? Which poet shares and appreciates so much when realizing that the milk flower "because of its full fragrance, it is ugly to the point of regret"? It is not a leaf, not a tree, it is a person! A person full of love, a person with a desire to devote. The milk flower forgets itself to its fragrance, not having time to take care of its simple appearance. The milk flower, somewhat like a mother in the homeland, quietly toils through the rain and the sun. The youth is so far away, as if it did not have time to exist in life.

Canola flower season

2.September, a storm has just passed through the Central region. It is pouring rain along a strip of land that was recently drenched in the blazing sun. Reading the Facebook of a long-time friend living in Hanoi, who has been away from home for decades, his hair has turned white, but he still yearns for his homeland: “The people of 9 Nam are sandwiched between the Lam and La rivers. I wonder how the people in the “basin” are doing with this rain, I feel so sorry for them!”. Wanting to know how my homeland is, I just need to pick up the phone, but I still can’t stop worrying, I have to see my homeland myself to feel at ease. I just know that the love for flesh and blood has no shore. I think of my mother again, the mother of a poem written about the day after the flood. My mother sowed new rice seedlings on the alluvial soil. The house was devastated, desolate, the red mud was still imprinted on the wall, but my mother’s small, skinny hands knew how to put aside the worries to start the new planting season. Mother was full of hope that after the flood, there would be silt again...

3.I also kept in my heart a belief like my mother's. That after the flood, alluvium will settle, after hardship, sincerity will settle. This season, the season of storms, but the trees are also in the season of sweet fruit. Condensing in the scent of the fruit, there is sunshine, there is wind, there is the time of embryonic development, of birth, and growth. Like this afternoon, coming back to the fields, the summer-autumn rice is harvested, in the scent of the wind, there is the taste of sweat of countless people - the honest villagers who devote their whole lives to the land. And the land is offering a golden season.

On the land of your life, you should also keep sowing seeds of love and seeds of faith, my friend!

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