Matron Cows and Silly Sows


Had I been born an article of sale clothing…’straight’ off the rack.

A bit long in the sleeve.

Slightly bulky.

Too athletic looking.

Would I make it fit?

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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?

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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.

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