The sun is hot for so
early an hour - there are
jewels of dew scattered on
the grass.  I scan the sky
for golden eagles and hope the
ospreys come back safe.  A
plane rumbles by, high, high
overhead: a great view from
the windows today.  Next month
the swifts and swallows ...
The light is so bright, when
I look up, the world around me
is in black and white.  My
eyes are screwed against the
light.  The food is nearly gone,
birds chip at the last of the
nuts.  A large bumble
lands on the primrose beside me,
my brow starts to sweat.
Not bad for a Saturday
morning in the High Lands:
no mourning, no regrets.

One Year Round The Sun
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