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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.
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