Kalimac:
You ask for more seasonal lyrics? This time, naught but the lyrics of white foam splashing down a stoney course at Rivendell framed under an arched bridge between gentle cliffs, my friend!
Saturday it was, that the feeling of spring finally matched the calendar's page. Bilbo looked up from his books and convinced me to "come see the waterfall, Gandalf!" Out onto the smooth pavement of the patio we went.
As glinting sunshine cascaded warmth generously downwards to encompass us as if in harmony with the water, I draped my bulky outer cloak upon a bench and moved to stand at the edge of a railing. But it was no good turning back to retrieve the cloak when my ears grew nippy from the wind, for Bilbo's idea of "seeing the waterfall" had quickly become "taking a nap with a waterfall comfortably in the background!" [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img] He had curled up to take slumberous residence on both bench and cloak.
The waterfall bubbled over like glad tidings in a winding rush to pour forth its spirit, dodging pebbles as it tumbled down long shale steps. Dark slate wetted to almost black up top, draining to drab tints about the middle, lightening to a lively blue-tinged shale in a pool that turned roundabout in curious river bends. Throughout the causeway were bright streaked trails of orange painted by rusty leaves, their artistry left over from last fall, newly skittling down the cliffs to join the water's chattering splash and dance of anticipation.
By turns I took in these surroundings and tried not to think about the returning coldness as day ebbed and the breeze picked up, glanced at Bilbo, wondered how long he might sleep, wondered what time it was, remembered that time here melded into timelessness if only you let it. Finally estimated it by the sun to be between 2:23 and 2:26 in the afternoon. I was proved right when a few minutes later, two other visitors approached. Fortunately, our mere presence and shared silent greetings were enough to waken Bilbo before anyone spoke.
Shortly after, I walked to a point overlooking the Ford of Bruinen, which offered a vista of new red maple buds over the water among the far more plentiful branches still in waiting shades of brown.
Gandalf the Grey
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