Tending to worry like a prized verbena

I fuss over my “what ifs” and “can’t controls” 

The path from the freezer to the glass

Used to be short enough to manage

Without sputtering so spectacularly

You look up from the task at hand

Silence except for the pan crackling

Stare straight past the sound 

of a thousand bees tearing down a city inside my brain

And say

“I think we just need to design the life we want and do it”

Daring them to rebuild