I think this poem draws on vague childhood memories. I have a hazy notion of looking for a four leaf clover in the playing field near my childhood home that I have turned into this.
It was the topic of our summer
one we would return to every so often
as we sat in the central school playing field
looking at the clover
counting leaves one two and three
on the lookout for number four
the rock solid gateway to the luck
You told me that your uncle once known a man
whose life had been turned around
more luck than he knew what to do with
We renewed our search
the days were long the field was large
our prize glittered just beyond our fingers
It is far from complete. The last line is in question, I am not sure that I can get away with clover glittering. I thought of tangible but it worked even less well. I think this poem has legs though. We await developments.
Plumes has a splendid new album out, you can buy it here.
Until next time.
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