Or is that woozy? My dogwood tree is just starting to bloom out my back window, and my lilac is purpling out the front. The smells of Spring are intoxicating!
Two hobbits wandered through the grasses, the larger one adjusting his pace so the smaller one would be comfortable.
Donago was certain that he caught a whiff, and he closed his eyes and drew in a long chest full of air. When he opened them, she was looking up at him. Two curls had slipped out from under her cloak. He gave out his crooked smile.
“My friends tell me I can’t catch a whiff of the sea so far from here,” he told her. “But I do.”
“And what does it smell like?”
“I sing a little gem about it down at the Brown Barrel sometimes. You want to hear it?”
Her gentle smile was the answer.
‘A whiff flew past of gossamer, and little bits of gleam,
Some water misted in the sky, it mixed with Elfin by and bye,
A sea bird soared and leant its cry,
So Donago could dream.
‘Some wonder why it suits me, to let my daydreams roam,
Why not feast on food and cheer, and call for songs to fill the ear,
With friends nearby I’d never fear,
Of gettng lost far from home.
‘But though my mind wanders while I rest, and stretch my feet in ease,
Low mountains blue beyond the green, little rivers crystal clean,
Flowering trees that over moss fields lean,
Create a far more potent breeze.
‘I may one day journey far to see, that distant shore and the wild sea,
I won’t know what changes are wrought, what fields are left and which holes bought,
How others treat this home I’ve sought,
To keep golden like my memory.
‘But return I will, for the Valley calls and holds a hobbit’s heart,
See a curl on a hobbit maiden, smell a hearty table laden,
Bend to laugh and never straighten,
I can’t be far apart.