Happiness sprouts as a humble plant
that Ogre, the purposeful, in his haste
towards a looming ambition can't
spy out, for he has no time to waste.
But Jack, the youngest, forgetting the tale
and hunting for fieldmice on any ground
(imagining lions along the trail)
may find it blooming all around.
If you've any comment on this poem, Thomas Land would be pleased to hear from you.