Love this poem!

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Sorry, I Missed Your Race Due to Rain  

 

A clover flower

is lovely alone,

but wallflower in a field.

 

There, a slow mover

might hover low

and notice.

 

But he may miss

altogether the clover

whose mustered all

oomph to sprout

that fourth petal.

 

Then the lawn mower might

eat them all up—

a shame. The whole

show for nothing—

 

as a race,

requires a world of effort,

but may or may not

be missed.

More poems from Alexi:

A Post-Rio Poem About New Beginnings

A Poem About Never Remembering Your First Run