The Clover

On pastures near, on pastures far, all green they are with clover.
Abundant white flowers on summer days, and still when autumn’s over.

Three leaves there are aplenty, and yet we search for number four.
To see the one in myth and lore, with petal leaf one more. 

We wish and hope for joyous view, to be met by lucky charm.
To feel one’s life is fuller than full, and none will come to harm. 

To give one’s gifts, in bounty time, with no fear of lack or loss.
For cup to burst beyond the brim, offering presence without cost.

For one’s pledge with this simple bloom, is to treasure and to nourish.
To help a person upon their way, to flow and then to flourish. 

For cow to graze, and feel the calm, to keep the storm at bay.
Be soothed by nature’s balm, be happy upon such glorious days.

To feel you are so very blessed, to be grateful for this wealth.
To know the fortune that you have, in just being in great health.

No need to seek such distant fame, for here and now is all enough.
To love and be loved, cherished much, honoured, without all the huff and puff.

By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2021

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