There are many fields of clover,
but just one Cloverfield
that means anything to me.
Cloverfield was a special place for me,
as a boy growing up in Martins Ferry,
along the shores of the Mighty Ohio.
I don’t remember when I first visited Cloverfield,
but I recall passing many peaceful summer afternoons,
lying on my back amidst the sweet clover,
watching clouds pass overhead,
and dreaming of far off places
that someday I would visit,
if only in my words.
I didn’t know back then
that James Wright,
Martins Ferry’s first poet son,
had also discovered this place–
this magical field of clover,
where contented Holsteins fed, and
where poets were born.
Well, at least a few anyway.
I didn’t know back then
that Cloverfield would mean anything to me today.
I didn’t know that all those quiet afternoons passed
watching the clouds and listening to the birds sing
would come to mean anything to me,
but they did.
Oh, how they did.
Perhaps there is a Cloverfield in your life.
A simple place where you feel suddenly alive.
A place that feels like home,
where you’re not afraid to talk to yourself.
A place clouds are allowed to be more than clouds,
and where your voice is yours,
no matter what words you say.
A place where poems, like clover,
grow thick and sweet
without even trying.
A place you don’t mind taking to your grave
because you know
you have found your place.
Dedicated to James Wright, a man I knew only through his words, and Annie, his sweet wife.
12 thoughts on “Cloverfield”
Clara…thank so much and glad you liked it. Glad most of all you have your clover field…probably has sand and surf.
This poem has special meaning to me. I do have a “Cloverfield”, and it is so wonderful. Your voice adds dimension to this poem. So, so beautiful. Thank you!
Thanks Gautami. I’m glad you do have such a place.
I can relate to this. I think I have a such a place.
Thanks Pat and Polona. There isn’t just one place for me, but Cloverfield is one place that seems to linger on throughout my life. Keep looking…
there are places close to my heart but i’m not sure i’ve found THE cloverfield yet…
No I don’t have a special place like that, but I have found many momentary places similar. Very well written!!
Thanks Floots and Dan.
Glad you have your Cloverfield(s), Floots. It’s so important.
Dan, thanks for this. Yes, it is the same, and yes, post it in its entirity on Anonymous Dharma. Indeed you DO know the ‘place’ of which I speak literally and symbolically. Happiness is a shared moment in time.
I’m pleased to know this story before, and even more pleased to hear your voice tell it again in this wonderful version.
Here’s part of something that, if I ever get around to posting on my blog again, I’ll probably put in the full version of the quote. It has to do with the Buddha and his search. Akin to your lazing in the Cloverfield:
“In that moment of recognition, he remembered the ease and peacefulness of a time in his childhood when he had been sitting in the shade of a tree watching his father at a ploughing festival. Shaded from the blazing sun, with no particular inclination toward this or that, his mind had by itself settled into a state of calm. Might that gratuitous, unforced calm be the basis for enlightenment?”
i think we all have
(or should have)
our own cloverfields
just as you suggest
i identified very strongly with this one
Thanks Aurora. There is power in the place to which I refer. A place where the heart attaches deeply. Cloverfield is real, but also symbolic in its role in my life.
I’ve never known such a place, but it sounds idyllic. This is powerful read in your voice, Don.