Nobody x-rays a four leaf clover
to see if the luck is working,
it circulates between petals
of the thinnest, palest green.
Tucked between dry pages
still viable after fifty years,
succulent, parched or crisp,
its shape activates wishing
at a slim moment's notice.
It uncorks the worn bottle
with the notes in it, that drifts
at the cusp of land and sea
just beneath the curling wave.
Its power rests in whispers, that
ossiclate to and fro remembering
the strength that gusts of strong wind
build into everything that is small...
Lucy Meskill
how wonderful to find a dried 4 leaf clover tucked away between pages. I did that once but it never occurred to me to write a poem about it. This is a lovely poem. Its power rests in whispers.
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ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem, "its power rests in whispers," Lucy! xo
Delete(My first comment had a typo, so I deleted)
"Its shape activates wishing at a slim moment's notice." just beautiful!!
ReplyDeleteEloquent as always.
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