Had I been born an article of sale clothing…’straight’ off the rack.
A bit long in the sleeve.
Too athletic looking.
Would I make it fit?
Had I been in mind…as an abused, handed down… ‘good news’ bible.
Splayed on open pages.
Scribbled in ink.
Someone’s ideals of what is right or wrong.
Could I be found lingering in the book of Ruth?
Would I see this pastoral woman as, someone strong?
I trust that…
in the undertaking of my travels…
I would want to exist as the, matron cow.
Or, perhaps, the silly sow.
Standing still in time…stoic and stubborn.
I would dawdle, four-legged, with peace in mind.
Chewing away all need for titles.
And, spitting out the rules they define.