Source: LOTR book verse
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Tolkien. I make no money from this.
There is a rime of white, like salt, on the drying hay, where it is touched by last night’s frost.
Halbarad woke early, alone in the sharp dawn air and inevitably retraced the steps from the day before.
He nudges the stiff grass strands with his foot. Encapsulated in their transient crystal shell, they will emerge yellow and bare in a couple of hours.
It was such a warm autumn day yesterday. He can still feel the touch and sweet smell of sun-warmed hay pushed against skin.
The memory tingles down his back and gathers at the spine like gossamers.