My neighbor’s garden has a patch
of four-leafed clovers, some are five.
My impulse is to pick them all,
count them, mount them, show them off -
But then what? I’d have a fistful
of wilted clovers pretty soon,
which don’t bring joy to anyone.
And so I leave them where they grow
for others to discover, too.
Good fortune is sweetest when shared.
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