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Finola Scott: a poem


4 a.m. and he's at it again,

yelling against pale day.

He feels the weight of the sun.

He's all erect; his throbbing red

comb is trembling. Unsheathed,

his spurs mean business. Crowing,

his blood runs with boasts.

His feathers are burnished bronze,

his eyes as fierce as sunrise.

Finola Scott's poems are published on postcards, tapestries and posters and in magazines 

including New Writing Scotland, PB and Lighthouse. Red Squirrel Press publish her

pamphlet Much left Unsaid. She is currently Makar of the Federation of Writers (Scotland).

You can find more poems here.


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