clover
i want so badly to understand life: to find within the morning sun a little patch of green, where i might look upon a perfectly placed green clover
and feel, for a moment, the subtle sting of meaning.
and while i could carry it pressed in my pocket, it would grow hollow and wither in the dark;
& furthermore, i think of who might come after me to spy that small, serendipitous shape and say, a sign! oh, the sign that i've been begging for - here it is!
and there, indeed, it is.
and yet, just some random act of nature; just one small and fragile thing, unfolding into the light.
like living, I suppose - so mundane and still miraculous.