I love to watch birds fly,
take seed from the feeder
outside my window.
Near autumn trees
under a mystic grey sky.
That hovers above rustic tiles
on sloping rooftops'
joined to the eaves.
Where television arials,
a thing of the day,
point to mist covered mountains,
blue in the distance.
Behind pine trees a plenty
reaching up high.
What I love most about this Highland autumn,
is the sound of the silence
as time passes by.
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