Periwinkle's Purr, Three

She flies a kite with Periwinkle’s face

And knows of its effects throughout the land;

On things it sees, it leaves a hidden trace

Of luck or love to prick up with your hand.

He's buried there, Sue knows, in tufts of grass

Or upturned stones so innocently grey;

He's in that whiff of topsoil as you pass

Within his reach at any time of day.

So there he scuds upon a balmy breeze

And Sue can hear him purr and, yes, she knows

That all his bounty needs no thank-you-please,

For Periwinkle’s gifts are like a rose

Upon whose fragrant beauty you will linger,

But, careful now, its thorn is in your finger.