When Worry Vines

When worry vines its way around my neck
chokes my words
my breath
my life
 
I put my hands into the earth
feel the push of soil beneath my fingernails
feel the pull at my feet of the busy ant
the unquestioning earthworm
the roots and their assured seeking.
 
I let my skin
my mind
my life
soften to the dance of the deep beneath;
I let the flowers show me how to lift my gaze to the sky—
Look up they say
Look up.