Irreducible Took

- jan-u-wine
It is grey morning.
 
Unbroken peace
shutters  
the White City,
gold dawn stealing  
soft through vast halls.
 
Peregrin Took,
Soldier of Gondor,
Hobbit of the Shire,
 
small
cousin,
 
is at table.
 
Twenty-five
(twenty-five!)
gold-brown bits
of honey'd loaf
have tucked nicely
into that turned-up mouth.
 
Twenty-five.
 
Dripping with butter,
laden
with still-warm jam.....
 
And tea.
 
Two pots, I think,
heavy with ivory cream
and amber'd honey.
 
Sam is determinedly not
seeing
Master Peregrin
from the corner of his eye.
 
Merry busily
draws the length of his sword
over the sharpening stone
whilst balancing his cup upon his knee.
 
The four of us.
 
Together.
 
 
I look down
into the folding
of my hands
which do not
quite
fold.
 
My thoughts
scatter
before the
very impossibility
of it all.
 
 
Beyond all dreams,
 
beyond all hope,
 
together.
 
Safe
 
Alive.
 
It is all together too much.
 
All together.
 
I smile and patiently
hold
another bit of bread
to the warm breath of the hearth.