The Big Worries
hog all the space in my brain:
Kids, money, work, madmen with axes
crouching in the basement.
Today, treat them like rude and chubby
house guests, intruders with
lousy manners. Today, teach them not
to squeeze out all the other tiny worries—
Will frost nip the mums?
Does this outfit make me look fat?
Is there tea left in the pot?
Let them come, the little
inconsequential worries. Give them room
to breathe. Soon enough, their clamor
might make me long for the good old days
when worries were fat but few.
