clover


i.

amid warm days in january,  california,  clover
blooms wildly.  in their confusion, they unknow

that winter's teeth scar the coming days.


ii.

yellow faces open to the morning sun, innocent.


iii.

she picks tiny petals from the pale, green stem, echoing, "he 
loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not ..."


iv.

twilight,  circle blossoms close into trumpets, concealing 
their unspoken captivation.


v.

out of a patch, the cluster withers in less than a day,
in a profusion of water.  creatures of the open

field, these flowers.



--jennifer crystal chien