My heart soars

Read by Mayowa Isiaq (voice of the grey clover)
My Heart Soars
BY CHIEF DAN GEORGE

The beauty of the trees,
the softness of the air,
the fragrance of the grass,
speaks to me.

The summit of the mountain,
the thunder of the sky,
the rhythm of the sea,
speaks to me.

The faintness of the stars,
the freshness of the morning,
the dew drop on the flower,
speaks to me.

The strength of fire,
the taste of salmon,
the trail of the sun,
And the life that never goes away,
They speak to me.
And my heart soars

What life should be

Read by Mayowa Isiaq (Voice of The Grey Clover)
What Life Should Be
BY PATRICIA FLEMMING

To learn while still a child
What this life is meant to be.
To know it goes beyond myself
It’s so much more than me.

To overcome the tragedies,
To survive the hardest times.
To face those moments filled with pain,
And still manage to be kind.

To fight for those who can’t themselves,
To always share my light.
With those who wander in the dark,
To love with all my might.

To still stand up with courage,
Though standing on my own.
To still get up and face each day,
Even when I feel alone.

To try to understand the ones
That no one cares to know.
And make them feel some value
When the world has let them go.

To be an anchor, strong and true,
That person loyal to the end.
To be a constant source of hope
To my family and my friends.

To live a life of decency,
To share my heart and soul.
To always say I’m sorry
When I’ve harmed both friend and foe.

To be proud of whom I’ve tried to be,
And this life I chose to live.
To make the most of every day
By giving all I have to give.

To me that’s what this life should be,
To me that’s what it’s for.
To take what God has given me
And make it so much more.

To live a life that matters,
To be someone of great worth.
To love and to be loved in return
And make my mark on Earth.

LEISURE

Leisure
BY W. H. DAVIES

WHAT is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Live better, seek better

Hello Clovers! Welcome back again. I hope you get off to a great start this week.

Remember, if you want something you have to work for it. Becoming a better version of yourself (which has been the main focus this year) isn’t just all about talk. You have to take action and do things that will make you that better version you want to become.

We can not live better than in seeking to become better

Socrates

You’ve got this! Just set your mind to one thing and you’ll get there soon enough. I will always be cheering for you. Keep moving forward.

Golden daffodils

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud 
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Strawberries

Narrated by Mayowa Isiaq
Strawberries
BY EDWIN MORGAN

There were never strawberries
like the ones we had
that sultry afternoon
sitting on the step
of the open french window
facing each other
your knees held in mine
the blue plates in our laps
the strawberries glistening
in the hot sunlight
we dipped them in sugar
looking at each other
not hurrying the feast
for one to come
the empty plates
laid on the stone together
with the two forks crossed
and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you

let the sun beat
on our forgetfulness
one hour of all
the heat intense
and summer lightning
on the Kilpatrick hills

let the storm wash the plates