Like collard greens when you cook them down
or a fluffy collie shaved for summer
or water left from a melted snowman,
so are my worries.
They still have some substance,
but they are so
in the strength of Reality.
If all the worst were stacked high,
the pile would wither under the words:
"I will never leave you nor forsake you.
Lo, I am with you always,
even to the end of the age."