Nothing better in all the world

Running rest-day ...

... I've blipped a Hugo Williams poem previously; and here's another from the pictured 1994 volume, which I assume has led to the collection's title:


JOY

Not so much a sting
as a faint burn

not so much a pain
as the memory of pain

the memory of tears
flowing freely down cheeks

in a sort of joy
that there was nothing

worse in all the world
than stinging nettle stings

and nothing better
than cool dock leaves.