Glibberish Poem by Francie Lynch

Worried? Are you happy?
Anticipation for my number to be called.
Waiting for the I-65, that stays in the basket.
For the hearse to pass in a weirdly somber parade;
For my children to be home;
Waiting for the lake to freeze;
For the lake to thaw;
Waiting for release;
For the question and the answer.
A thought just popped into my head.
From where?
What's my brain telling me.
I've never told it anything.
It has a mind of its own.
These quotidian thoughts, like memories, ideas, pictures and songs.
Rare thoughts and self chastisement.
Common anxiety with no controlling redundant backup.
Where does the ocean begin? At the lapping of the water,
Or an inch beneath the surface sand?
Does the forest start with the leaf twirling in the wind,
Or with the roots under the asphalt?
Be happy... don't worry.
Glib!