A poem: boot is that a haemaroid hanging oot the Trump's arse...nae lad, its Boris

A reckoning

Aye,  this were

The dark and the dawn

This were the counting

Of me fingers and then me toes

Aye,  this were me reckoning

Christchurch November 2019

Aye, well I wrote this afore the British election. 

Sydney smoke haze