by Sarah Earlene Shere, ©2025
(Mar. 8, 2025) — The little clover hung its head for shame while the other clovers trembled with laughter. As the laughter subsided, one of the mockers spoke, “Ah, you see? You’ll never fit in here. It’s a pity that you’re stuck in place and can’t relocate to where you are not a blemish on the landscape.” The odd clover was just about to lower himself as far as he could when he suddenly felt dainty fingers caress his leaves before reaching for his stem and snapping him out of the ground. He thought this to be his judgement till her soft lips kissed each of his four leaves. The lass, then, tenderly attached him to the lapel of the uniform on the lad with her. The soldier gave a broad grin as he caught his girl’s hand, “A beautiful, rare find, like yourself!” At that statement, the four-leaf clover raised himself toward the sun.
***
The little clover thought himself the luckiest fellow ever as his new perch took him to places he never thought he’d see. But his joy was short-lived as his surroundings soon were dim and grim, filled with deafening noises. He was glad when his lad, and those in the narrow ditch with him, could sit down and be still. It was then his lad would take out a harmonica and play a low tune, like a lullaby from home.
It was this tune that woke up the little clover one day. His world had gone black after a thunderous sound and flash of a blast. This tune brought him back to consciousness. But when he looked around, he was in a new place, a sterile room with women attending to the needs of men who were lying in beds that lined the walls. He still clung to the lapel of his lad’s coat that was now draped upon a chair. The little clover stared at the man in the bed near him. He was playing his lad’s harmonica and that old tune from home, but, my, how his lad had changed: his head was bandaged, a patch covered his left eye and his left shirt sleeve was vacant of an arm.
***
The little clover straightened himself upon the lapel as he and his lad exited the train. He hoped he would be recognized, as he knew his lad might not be, due to all the changes he had undergone. Soon, the little clover saw their lass running toward them. She paused before caressing the clover’s leaves. Looking up into the lad’s face, she smiled and declared, “A beautiful, rare find, like yourself!”