This three-cornered jack

        This three-cornered jack

        and few things expose its candour

        in the grass.

        Amongst marshmallow, couch and wild clover

        shy spring green of tiny splade-like leaves

        the cryptic clockwork of its prostrate lair.

        Few things we know

        will memory brush the skin

        the nape of neck the itch of upper arms.

        Thorns stored in some safe

        chamber of the brain

        becomes unpinned and crown nerves with alarm.

        Few things can harm the unprotected foot

        that tests their summer innocence in lawn

        the equidistant siting of the stings

        ensures that there is always just one spine

        pointing to heaven - no matter how it falls

        few things can hurt like hell

                                                      and be so small.

 These poems are from my new collection IN THE APRICOT DARKNESS (view the cover and contents below in my recent posts). They are now being published individually, daily under 'recent posts' on my blog and will be available shortly as an eBook that can be read online or downloaded for free.