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Poems for devolution (Free verse) by richa

I We turn the clocks forward for more light, for the scottish farmers not doubt. In the highlands, red jowls chewing on gristle. Their strange climate they can keep. II A strange climate you have; rain on a handful of heads in spartan highlands, we all get the forecast. In those couple of minutes we could have had Rhyl's.

D. $ Fontera 2-Nov-04/7:11 AM
An intriguing poem at least. Nothing completely wonderful about it. *6*




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