Clovers

I wonder sometimes what I can do 
about all this mess 
in my house, my yard, the world.

I pull the garden cart out,
trundle over to the weeds,
but the dog bites at the moving 
wheels, grinding me down.  

So I sit on the grass instead,
and he satellites around me while I grow
rooted, enervated.  Bees scurry, 
and clovers blanket out beneath me.
Some have four leaves.  

I'm lying down now, losing
kinetic will. The dog delights.
I'm pretending there's so much time
left in the day, when here I am 
getting older on the clover.

Sara Eddy’s full-length poetry collection, Ordinary Fissures, was released by Kelsay Books in May 2024. She is also the author of two chapbooks (Tell the Bees, A3 Press, 2019, and Full Mouth, Finishing Line Press, 2020), and her poems have appeared in many online and print journals, including Threepenny Review, Raleigh Review, Sky Island, and Baltimore Review, among others. She lives in Amherst, Massachusetts, in a house built by Emily Dickinson’s cousin.