I love plenty
so much more than less,
that generous expanse
lifting outwards,
wheels of petals,
new green leaves.
So much better than
closing down,
pulling inward,
inside the husk of things.

So off with skins
and belts and too tight shells!
Grow new cells,
arms and legs and hands.
If you must be fish,
then be a starfish,
swim through galaxies
of glittering foam;
if bird, then fly
beyond the tallest tree
and mountain nest;
if star,
spin off to distant constellations,
farthest milky ways.

Even if housebound,
clean your closets,
make new rooms
to decorate with magic stones
feathers from your journeys
through the open windows of your heart.

photograph by Edward Weston
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