She takes her crown not from the hands of artisans. It is not made of mined metals and polished stones. It is not the product of toil. She plucks it from her walking path. And even her crown serves her. A covering and a pad for the toil she does beside the ones who serve with her. For she is not a queen who will ever lord over you. She is beside you. She proves her rule by the dirt on her hands.
She is unaware of the power she can have over those of her kingdom because she has no guile. Fear does not motivate her. She grows like the fertile world that is her habitation and is surprised that I call her queen.