When Worry Vines
When worry vines its way around my neck
chokes my words
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
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
Used by permission of the author.