the Fourth Leaf

I used to

collect pennies

but luck is

what happens when

you realize that life is

a field, not a forrest

and less-traveled is 

this road, no more

than a couple shuffled

footprints thick

It isn't always

sunlit and daisies

but your feet are

the only movement

in between

the flood-washed grass

From where

I watched a raindrop

falling and I tried

to save him;

my fingers closed

but he only

washed away the

firefly that I had caught

and I thought

story of my life:

watching pennies

roll under things