Clover

I was walking through the crisp, fall forests of the country. It was getting to be freezing temperatures outdoors, but I didn't seem to mind. In fact, I adored it; I loved the way the cool breeze would make the trees sway in the wind and how the brisk air would bring my cheeks to a light flush. It was only mid-fall but it felt as if it was the winter—without the snow.

Walking always cleared my mind after a difficult day; gave me a sense of normalcy, in my constant, changing life. It was nice to know that even if everyone you know, everything you do, and just plain everything in modern society was changing and you were standing still that nature was at a halt with you. That's how I felt—plain and simple.

I gazed at the forest floor, admiring the dozens of colors. The green of the grass, the browns and reds of the fallen leaves, and even the dull tan of the rotting pine needles. I also saw the deteriorating condition of my once, white sneakers. They had brown splotches all over them from the muddy ground, the once bleached laces a light russet. Walking had its pro's and cons I suppose, just like everything else.

Whilst I was admiring the beauty of a fall afternoon, I lost my footing over a rock that had been out of my sight and fell forward, landing on my shins. They stung slightly, but it was defiantly bearable.

After I finished scrapping the mud off of my faded blue jeans, I felt a strong inclination to turn my head down and to the left. When I did a single clover surrounded by foliage—uncovered though—came to my attention. I leaned forward to examine it closer. Four leafs.

Never in all of my life had I ever seen a four leaf clover, it surprised me. Without thinking I plucked it out of the moist ground as if someone was going to pop up and steal it from me, and stuck it in my pocket.

"A person does not seek luck; luck seeks the person"