The Hobbit & the Moon

- jan-u-wine

Nigh on an hour
I stood,
pale purity of lemon
moon
limning grey-white woolen
clouds in the smalt bowl of the sky.

Serene star-fire
attends Him.

It is wonderfully warm here,
just
between the sweet roundness
of the grate
and the window's
unblinking eye.

Soft steam
trails
from the mouth of my
cup.

The tea smells
of
summer
and fall
and leaves
in bright, sleepy blown beds
upon the ground.

How very beautiful
it all is.

In the deep night,
when
darkness claims me
and I have no thought
or breath
for aught
save cold fear,
I  shall
draw these moments about me:
.
Sweet memory's cloak.