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Arda
unmarred |
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No one would know that it was there were it not for some ripples in the lea and not a breeze the blame to bear. Far from the shelter of shrub and tree, waited on by mallow and meadowsweet, it feasted there like a Roman grandee. The slender muzzle of the young doe plucked choosily from the grassy mere, oblivious of watchers close - friend or foe. While the sun trailed off into the fragrant eve, all at once the place was graced with an air of Arda unmarred - sweet, but, oh so brief. |
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