Contemplating the exhausting, soul-destroying practice of constant worrying and how you might go about overcoming it
Oh poor little parrot, will they leave you all alone?
Do you fear an uncleaned cage,
an empty dish, or lack of home?
It makes me cry, such a sad sight indeed
You pluck out all those pretty feathers
I’m afraid you’ll start to bleed.
Besides yourself with worry
At what might not even happen
Will make you chilly and featherless in a hurry!*
From gargantuan issues (global warming, terrorism) to the minute (squirrels in my attic), I worry. In between those two extremes, from that which I have absolutely no control over to that which is easily remedied, there are a multitude of concerns like ever-vigilant sentries, with guns slung over their shoulders, marching to and fro and keeping me awake at night.