Tolkien, and gratitude

 I read a verse by Tolkien today,

and suddenly was gripped with gratitude for

all the things I'd ever had.

His verse was about fire and sunswept fields,

beauty and stark relief,

and I could not help, with his refrain

from feeling my own journey there.

He sat by his fire, and I by mine,

Thinking of the seasons I've seen,

the reflection and the time we have,

to sit and think, far from our screens.

The things that make me grateful,

many and varied are

the dry heat emanating from my fire,

the austere beauty of the stars.

The friends I have, the friends I keep,

The women I have loved,

important to my journey are,

thought fleeting some may be.

Life's seasons come, as fall and spring

and with winter upon us now,

it falls to me to let it break

as waves upon the bow

Of summer's hayfields, hot and dry,

the green hint of new spring,

fall's foliage picturesque,

and winter's biting sting

Through all the seasons of my life, 

one thing has e'er been true

Entwined must our lives ever be,

with me, and thou, and you?