Clover at Twilight

a poem and some thoughts about clover

Another recent poem of dusk…

Twilight. And the clover leaves have folded,
All the flowers gleaming white above them,
Waiting for the stars, alike for dawning,
Scented faint of springtime and of honey.
From the earth the roaming darkness rises,
Flows about my feet among the clover;
Overhead the stars are not yet shining,
But below their ageless gleam is mirrored,