Loose Living

I wear loose cotton dresses, resistance to synthetic array. The trees don't mind, I don't mind. Then I find myself where walls and mirrors say "Hey,  nobody going nowhere, there's dirt under your nails."  I continue weeding. I wear loose labels, resistance to stickers and stamps. "Artist" I say to those who ask. It's the biggest box I could find.  To herself in the attic I say "shut up, fuck off, let me be." I wear the weave of my dreams loosely. I won't be saving the world nor manifesting  brilliant schemes. I am just being. I wrap myself in snug attention, a rich tapestry of trial and triumph, with strong threads of intuition, imagining a path towards soul unleashing life affirming light for whoever may need, especially Me.