i live in the highlands where the fairies sleep where moon-falls and sunrises are the time i keep where the mist rises to greet the day and the wind whistles as the aspens sway three miles up a washboard road that climbs through fields where hay is sowed green rolling hills where leprechauns gather where life slows down and time don't matter i live in the highlands where the fairies sleep where the good life is simple and the simple life is sweet
in the still of an early August morning the cracking of branches sounded their presence with the squint of an eye they appeared moving slowly through the tall grass and downed trees large, dark creatures foraging on the land their leader appeared in all his glory antlers rising high above the long meadow grass a proud king with his crown his harem following dutifully behind the infamous elk herd of the highlands another day in paradise on the homestead
the clouds roll in like waves upon the shore but there is no retreat the clouds hang low and heavy a cold zephyr blows yet the sky is unwavering a lone bird takes flight dark wings fluttering skyward the creature pierces the clouds and in one thunderous clap the sky cracks open and an ocean pours out
