Peaceful afternoon

A cool summer breeze blew in gusts down the wide river, rippling the water's surface and gently tossing the small boats anchored at the dock. From the riverbank, the wind rustled through the mulberry leaves. On the dike, the sound of a flute drifted across the sky, releasing gentle, melodious, and pleasant notes. Half-lying, half-sitting on the lush, fragrant grass, Tham tried to savor and absorb all the relaxed feelings of the peaceful countryside afternoon.

Illustration.

The wind from the dike gradually spreads down to the lush green fields. At this time of year, the rice plants are in their young, vibrant green, tender and full of life. Another gust of wind rises, the rice leaves rustling and swaying. Occasionally, a mischievous fish leaps out of the water and splashes down at the base of the rice plants. A few egrets wade through the water, diligently foraging, occasionally looking up at the sky with a bewildered expression. In the distance, towards the village, the ivory bamboo grove, having weathered countless seasons of rain and sun, still stands tall, sheltering the small, curved roof of the village temple. Decades ago, this bamboo grove was the "hideout" of Tham and the other children in the neighborhood. After school, not wanting to go home immediately, Tham would hide behind the bamboo grove or in the temple courtyard with her friends, playing mischievous games. On scorching summer afternoons, choosing a corner of the temple where the bamboo branches stretched out, the children would lie sprawled out, chatting. Gathering a few ripe guavas, bananas, or persimmons, they would all feast right under the bamboo. In those days, the bamboo grove at the edge of the village was almost never without laughter and chatter. Look, smoke from someone's kitchen drifted lazily, lingering around the eaves and swirling among the old bamboo branches, signaling the approaching evening. The clanging of oars calling for fish from the riverbank startled Thắm, pulling her out of her memories. From the river, the old fisherman hurriedly called out, "Put down your nets, son, the water's cool now, the fish are about to come out to feed." "I know, Dad, you say that every day, I know it by heart," the young man replied gruffly. His powerful oars churned the water, and the small boat sped out into the middle of the river. At the bow, in the twilight, the young man stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, casting his nets. The last rays of sunlight lingered on the boat, dancing on the young man's shoulders and reflecting on the water's surface, creating a picture of sharp, beautiful shapes—a picture that was both a little lonely and yet full of spirit and freedom.

"A peaceful afternoon in the countryside is truly precious," Thắm murmured. She had planned so many times to break away from work, find the most peaceful place to return to, but she had never been able to do it, nor did she have the "courage" to do so. Young people like her seemed afraid… of stopping, afraid of being surpassed, and also afraid… of doubting themselves. Until the day Thắm felt truly exhausted, had to stop and look back. Her hometown immediately came to mind first. This afternoon on the quiet village dike, amidst the rustling winds heralding the day, the young woman's heart was strangely calm and peaceful. In the midst of the wind's "rest," the river echoed with the poignant sounds that reflected Thắm's feelings: "My heart yearns for my homeland, stirred by the flowing water. Even without the smoke of sunset, I still miss home…" (Tràng Giang, Huy Cận) .

Spring Flowers

Source: https://baonamdinh.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202505/binh-yen-chieu-3926137/