I worried
I worried lot. Will the
garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction,
will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not
how shall I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong,
will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing,
even the sparrows
can do it and am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or
am I just imaging it,
am I going to get
rheumatism,
lock jaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying
had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took
my old body
and went out into the
morning,
and sang.
