A four-leaf clover found our daughters on St. Patrick's Day 2013. The event inspired the following poem:
In all the time I've taken to arrive at where I have
Under all the stones I've capsized
Amidst the canyons and the dales
The cracks between the concrete
Beneath the shadowed brush
The front, and back, and side-yards of buildings seen & been
Below the broadleaf canopies where nightingales sing
Upon the ground, along the course where thrushes come-and-go
In hopes year-after-year, aft passing of the rain or snow
Not ever—and felt never—seen or see a four leaf clover,
'til the day my daughters say, "Oh, dad, look here at this!"
Be still this heart it lists, after I had slowly sauntered over.
No effort, nor their desire to find...
No time, no search, no piece of minds...
devoted to this shamrock here;
Toward such good fortune they'd been steered!
So long I've searched, til sadness perched;
A dream no more pursued, and me resignedly imbued...
'til what you've searched your life to see...
arrives by way of para 3. And, with it, gifted clarity!
Sweet life & love gifts Rarity, so freely without chase!
The lesson that I've learned this day:
To bloom where you've been placed.