Scottish Girls know no Cold

They topple
bandy-legged and orange.
They wear ice picks on their feet
digging spikes into the ice,
waving their arms out
for balance.

Scottish girls feel no cold.
Their painted skin reddens
blotches,
their bare toes
colour-tipped
protude on ice.

They wear skin tight
pillow cases
and wobble
on arm lengths,
squealing when their
spikes get stuck
between the iced cobbles.

Scottish girls feel no cold.
With drink in their bellies,
ye ken, there’s no cold to feel?

Scottish Girls know no cold is a poem from Winter Flowers

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