They have a special aura, those

fine-tuned to life on the harsh isles.

Standing on a cliff, they watch

the sea retreat in a white flag of foam,

their remoteness permitting them to

live as much in myth as on a map.

Yet like us, they boast no divine insight,

and try to see what the future will hold

even as we imagine them

striding through dim highland forests

and living contented lives

in a landscape without concrete.

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