Clover of Four

(for my mother who would have turned 85 today)

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Betwixt the primal automn air
I stroll along on worn out fields; I look for her in glowing leaves
that tumble to content despair

I never knew how she could spy
a fourleaved clover in the grass; but when she left to join the clouds
her mistery fell on bristly rye

I try to pierce the muddled mist
and call upon creation to keep the promise that she’d made
to find me in a secret tryst

It seems a search to no avail
I hunt, inspect and comb the green; perhaps there is no greater scheme
she left to leave nor sign or trail

But there’s a pause, a halt in time
a gust of everafter scent; and there before my watery eyes
clovers of four and five sublime.

Grievance of a dismayed child

Ganges

Mother dear
I know it’s age
that runs away on riverbeds

your patterned swimsuit
on my mind
I was so small and you so tall

 now I have grown into the sky
left you there on shifting sand
pebbles roll beneath your feet
and waters lick around your calves

Why does the tide not stay away?
Why do you have to drift along?
I cannot swim to rescue you
out of a lifetime’s ocean

Each creek does find the sea it needs
I learned this from the tales you’ve told
and yet how could I not foresee
that drops and people flow the same?

I’m just allowed to let you float
and send some lonely tears with you
One day my creek will follow yours
and find the ocean that you know