The Highlands

Rolling green hills a sea of emeralds,

Holding thousands of gold petaled fireflies,

Silver oaks kissed by the breeze tremble,

Against brilliant pink horizons at sunrise,

Shadows dance with milky clouds on peaks,

Magic shaped stories shrouded in mystique.

Quick steps and laughter chase seagulls,

Glass fingerprints smudge the shorthorns,

Tiny pale fingers point at bundles of wool,

A child’s wide-eyed wonder reborn,

Blue sapphires study dark waters unaware,

Of the wind whipping her yellow hair.