Poem

This week I'm reading the book of John. I'm on schedule, but I don't have time to write about anything. However, I did write a story-poem (or a poem-story) today. I've just started writing these short prose pieces that I like to think of as poems, because no one writes stories that are this short. The form was mostly inspired by Jesus' parables, but the key difference, as I discovered when talking about them with Edwin, is that where Jesus wants to either confuse people or teach them a specific lesson about the kingdom of heaven, I want to communicate, not a lesson, but instead a motion of the spirit, like submission or redemption or love. I intend to keep trying until I get it right...but here's the one I just wrote. Can you tell what the motion is supposed to be?

There once was a little clover growing in the tall grass. It was beautiful, each leaf formed in perfect proportion. The birds and butterflies flew around the field and perched on trees and flowers, but the little clover was left unseen. Then, one day, a man came and stopped. He dug a hole, transplanted the clover into a tiny pot, and brought it back to his house. Then, he invited all his friends to come over and admire it.