Angels blare a brassy fanfare
on foxglove trumpets by the square.
Pixie dust sparkles on each fairy’s wing.
Toads hop, dragonflies zip and zing,
white butterflies stop and stammer,
robins flit, and magpies jig and jammer.
The busy nothing, the sameness of summer,
the repeated sounds of a cicada drummer,
the going round and about, and back again,
brings to mind the sunny shire of Tolkien.
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Are you a Tolkien fan? Do you long to breathe the fresh air of Middle Earth (or at least New Zealand)? I do. 🙂
“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.” The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.
I’d certainly rather have a fantasy trip to New Zealand rather than next week’s surgery (EEK!).