Marion Angus

A Small Thing

‘A hurt so small,’
Say you,
‘A thread of grey
On blue,
So slight a thing
Less than a wild rose sting
Nothing at all.’
And yet,
When thrushes call,
Or winds awake
And sigh – and sink –
And fall –
Into the evening’s grey
I think –
And think
This small heartbreak
Will wear my life away