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.

 
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