六、阅读下面材料，按要求作文。（60分）
“春风十里”，是诗人笔下“春风得意马蹄疾”的畅怀，是街头巷尾“吹面不寒杨柳风”的温柔，更是藏在生活褶皱里那些令人心动的瞬间。春风可以是具象的——是虞山公园里拂过新柳的丝丝暖絮，也可以是抽象的——是陌生人递来的一把伞、同桌悄悄推过来的半块橡皮——社区志愿者蹲下身帮扶老人的身影，甚至是树叶间飘落的一片枫叶、手机里珍藏的一段视频、记忆中回荡的一首童谣……
春风所到之处，万物皆有回响。你可以走进自然，描写春风中草木的生长姿态；可以回溯时光，讲述春风里藏着的亲情、友情故事；可以展开想象，让“春风”成为某个理想或信念的象征；亦可以结合地域特色，写写常熟街巷的春风民宿（如宝岩杨梅节的烟火、白茆山歌的悠扬在春风中的传承）。
请以“春风十里”为题 ，写一篇不少于600字的文章。要求：文体不限（诗歌除外），内容充实，情感真挚，文中不得出现真实的人们、校名。
春风十里
春风是从虞山公园的柳梢开始的。
晨雾未散时，那些新芽就顶着鹅黄的绒毛，在青砖黛瓦间轻轻摇晃。我总爱蹲在湖边看它们拂过水面，荡开一圈圈涟漪，像极了揉面时撒下的面粉，蓬松而温柔。去年留下的柳枝编作的草环，此刻正悬在老屋门楣上，被春风吹得簌簌作响。
巷口的便利店玻璃柜里，关东煮永远腾着热气。有次我来这里，柜台上不知谁留了包纸巾，塑料包装在春风里沙沙作响，恍惚间竟听见童年时窗外卖糖葫芦的叫声。
最难忘是去年深秋的敬老院走廊。手工制作的茱萸香囊悬在雕花窗棂下，风过时飘来若有若无的药香。轮椅旁的木盒里，泛黄的榫卯构件整整齐齐码着，缝隙间卡着半片干枯的枫叶。窗外的梧桐叶正簌簌飘落，白茆山歌的调子忽然从扩音器里溢出，苍老的嗓音在秋风里竟透出少年般的清亮。护工房里的按摩仪还在嗡嗡运转，阳光穿过百叶窗，在墙上投下律动的光影。
如今每当我走过虞山步道，总看见新栽的樱花树正在抽枝。放大镜躺在石凳上，镜片里凝着晨露，照着嫩芽蜷曲的纹路。手机里珍藏的那段视频仍在循环播放：去年除夕，社区广场的灯笼映着空荡的长椅，自动送餐车沿着水泥路驶来，烟火在夜空炸开时，棉花糖机的转盘正旋转出糖丝，被风吹成了春天的形状。
原来春风从未离开，它藏在便利店的玻璃柜里，裹在山歌的尾音中，融在旋转的齿轮间。当环保竹匾取代了传统木盆，当白茆山歌的旋律变成一幅画在樱花树下流淌，我终于懂得：这流动的春风，原是文明的长卷，是人们在传递的温暖，是世界里生长的诗意。
六、閱讀下面材料，按要求作文。（60分）
“春風十裡”，是詩人筆下“春風得意馬蹄疾”的暢懷，是街頭巷尾“吹面不寒楊柳風”的溫柔，更是藏在生活褶皺裡那些令人心動的瞬間。春風可以是具象的——是虞山公園裡拂過新柳的絲絲暖絮，也可以是抽象的——是陌生人遞來的一把傘、同桌悄悄推過來的半塊橡皮——社區志願者蹲下身幫扶老人的身影，甚至是樹葉間飄落的一片楓葉、手機裡珍藏的一段視頻、記憶中回蕩的一首童謠……
春風所到之處，萬物皆有迴響。你可以走進自然，描寫春風中草木的生長姿態；可以回溯時光，講述春風裡藏著的親情、友情故事；可以展開想像，讓“春風”成為某個理想或信念的象徵；亦可以結合地域特色，寫寫常熟街巷的春風民宿（如寶岩楊梅節的煙火、白茆山歌的悠揚在春風中的傳承）。
請以“春風十裡”為題 ，寫一篇不少於600字的文章。要求：文體不限（詩歌除外），內容充實，情感真摯，文中不得出現真實的人們、校名。
春風十裡
春風是從虞山公園的柳梢開始的。
晨霧未散時，那些新芽就頂著鵝黃的絨毛，在青磚黛瓦間輕輕搖晃。我總愛蹲在湖邊看它們拂過水面，蕩開一圈圈漣漪，像極了外婆揉面時撒下的麵粉，蓬鬆而溫柔。去年清明留下的柳枝編作的草環，此刻正懸在老屋門楣上，被春風吹得簌簌作響。
巷口的便利店玻璃櫃裡，關東煮永遠騰著熱氣。有次我冒雨買書回來，櫃檯上不知誰留了包紙巾，塑膠包裝在春風裡沙沙作響，恍惚間竟聽見童年巷尾的貨郎搖著撥浪鼓，叫賣聲裹著麥芽糖的甜。生銹的鐵皮櫃裡，電池和打火機在晨光中靜靜排列，如同老照片裡褪色的紐扣。
最難忘是去年深秋的敬老院走廊。手工製作的茱萸香囊懸在雕花窗櫺下，風過時飄來若有若無的藥香。輪椅旁的木盒裡，泛黃的榫卯構件整整齊齊碼著，縫隙間卡著半片乾枯的楓葉。窗外的梧桐葉正簌簌飄落，白茆山歌的調子忽然從擴音器裡溢出，蒼老的嗓音在秋風裡竟透出少年般的清亮。護工房裡的按摩儀還在嗡嗡運轉，陽光穿過百葉窗，在牆上投下律動的光影。
如今每當我走過虞山步道，總看見新栽的櫻花樹正在抽枝。放大鏡躺在石凳上，鏡片裡凝著晨露，照著嫩芽蜷曲的紋路。手機裡珍藏的那段視頻仍在迴圈播放：去年除夕，社區廣場的燈籠映著空蕩的長椅，自動送餐車沿著水泥路駛來，煙火在夜空炸開時，棉花糖機的轉盤正旋轉出糖絲，被風吹成了春天的形狀。
原來春風從未離開，它藏在便利店的玻璃櫃裡，裹在山歌的尾音中，融在旋轉的齒輪間。當環保竹匾取代了傳統木盆，當白茆山歌的旋律變成二維碼在櫻花樹下流淌，我終於懂得：這流動的春風，原是文明的長卷，是機械臂傳遞的溫暖，是代碼裡生長的詩意。
VI. Reading the following material and write an essay as required. (60 points)
"Ten Miles of Spring Breeze" is the unrestrained joy of "horses galloping briskly in triumphant spring wind" in poets' verses, the gentleness of "willow wind caressing the face without a chill" on streets and alleys, and the heartwarming moments hidden in life's folds. Spring breeze can be concrete—a wisp of warm fluff brushing new willows in Yushan Park—or abstract—a stranger offering an umbrella, a classmate sliding half an eraser across the desk, a community volunteer crouching to assist an elderly person, or even a maple leaf falling between branches, a cherished video on a phone, or a nursery rhyme echoing in memory...
Wherever the spring breeze reaches, all things resonate. You may immerse yourself in nature to describe the growth of plants in the wind; revisit memories to recount stories of family and friendship; imagine "spring breeze" as a symbol of ideals or beliefs; or integrate local characteristics to depict spring-themed homestays in Changshu's streets (such as the of Baoyan Bayberry Festival or the melodious of Baimao Folk Songs in the breeze).
Please write an essay of no less than 600 words titled "Ten Miles of Spring Breeze." Requirements: Any genre except poetry, substantial content, sincere emotions, and no real names of people or schools should appear.
Ten Miles of Spring Breeze
The spring breeze begins at the willow tips in Yushan Park.
Before dawn mist clears, new buds capped with golden fluff sway gently against gray tiles and blue bricks. I often by the lake to watch them brush the water, stirring ripples like flour sprinkled by grandma while kneading dough—soft and tender. A willow wreath woven last Qingming Festival now hangs on the old house's lintel, rustling in the wind.
In the convenience store at the alley’s entrance, the glass cabinet always steams with oden. Once, returning soaked from buying books, I found a pack of tissues left on the counter. The plastic wrapper rustled in the breeze, and for a moment, I heard the faint jingle of a childhood street vendor’s rattle, his cries blending with the sweetness of malt candy. Inside the rusted metal cabinet, batteries and lighters align quietly in morning light, like faded buttons in an old photo.
Most unforgettable is last autumn’s corridor in the nursing home. Handmade dogwood sachets dangle under carved window latticed, releasing a faint herbal scent when wind passes. Beside a wheelchair, a wooden box neatly stores yellowed mortise-and-tenon joints, a half-dried maple leaf wedged in their gaps. As plane tree leaves flutter down, Baimao Folk Songs suddenly spill from a loudspeaker—the aged voice, surprisingly clear as a youth’s, dances in the autumn wind. The massage device in the caregiver's room hums ceaselessly, sunlight filtering through blinds to cast rhythmic shadows on the wall.
Now, strolling Yushan Trail, I see newly planted cherry trees sprouting. A magnifying glass rests on a stone bench, its lens holding dew that magnifies the curves of tender shoots. A video on my phone loops endlessly: Last New Year’s Eve, lanterns illuminated empty benches in the community square as self-driving meal carts rolled down concrete paths. When fireworks exploded, a cotton candy machine spun sugar threads into the shape of spring, carried by the wind.
The spring breeze has never left. It hides in the convenience store’s glass cabinet, weaves through folk song echoes, and merges with rotating gears. As eco-friendly bamboo trays replace wooden basins and Baimao melodies flow as QR codes beneath cherry blossoms, I realize: This eternal breeze is a scroll of civilization, warmth delivered by mechanical arms, and poetry born from code.
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