,
We’ve decided perhaps it doesn’t matter
if we step on all these sidewalk cracks.
We’ve left the horseshoes on the
horses so we can hear that cobble
-stone clack. We’ve blown wishless
(candles) dandelion kites to breeze
without all these parameters that
say they must bring luck or any
other scattered thing. No copper
pennies tossed to sky, no sea
-salt thrown over clavicle. We’ve
got bigger fish to fry, and eat. Meet
the clover in the field (four leaves,
or three) and leave it where it lies;
there’s no surprise in breathing,
counting only uncaged lung streams
, knowing they’re enough. Scritching
rabbit fluff and assuring they keep
their feet. Beating tea leaves
to the punch, and drinking deep.
::
In November, she poems.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
What a great use of words, really captures so many movements – breathing, beating, throwing. I loved the use of scritching such a potent word as descriptor it evokes movemnet .