Clover
Wearing green to church,
A three-leaf clover on the lapel—
Cheap grace explained in whispers,
Saints and legends intertwine.
Fields of conquest, tales of shamrocks,
Primitive men chewed as gossip.
In the shadow of the rose and thistle,
A nation’s symbol germinates.
Reclamation of insult,
Or homage to the sainted herder?
St. Patrick\'s lore becomes a badge,
Roots sprawling in the emerald myth.
From the soil of subjugation,
An icon grows defiantly—
A trifoliate plea for identity,
On the breast of believers and nonbelievers alike.