Clover

Lo Siento - I feel it.

I come from fields of clover

from the north.

From the west of an island

of which we share salt water.

I come from fields of clover,

I bring with me, no language.

and I am dumb

except my clay.

I come from fields of clover 

and I am sorry

and I feel it

but I can still see. 

I come from fields of clover 

and I can see love

and friendship

and I still hear laughter.

I come from fields of clover

of soft damp lime green grass

and your streets are hard

and sometimes dark.

I come from fields of clover

and cold misty mornings

and I am sorry for questioning,

I am just trying to understand.

I come from fields of clover

so it takes me a while 

to hear the swallows, 

and to smell the sea.

I come from fields of clover 

and inside I have passion.

But I see your passion 

and I am moved.