I Worried

By Mary Oliver

I worried a 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 I am, well,  hopeless. 

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,  am I going to get rheumatism,  lockjaw, dementia? 

I love this one too. I love many of Oliver's poems. They all feel so sincere, and grateful, and loving. I think she manifests what life should be about in a very beautiful way.