If this were my last day I’m almost sure
I’d spend it working in my garden.
I would dig about my little plants,
and try to make them happy, so they
would endure long after me. Then I
would hide secure where my green
arbor shades me from the sky, and
watch how bird and bee and butterfly
came hovering to every flowery lure.
Then, as I rested, perhaps a friend
or two lovers of flowers would come,
and we would walk about my little
garden paths and talk of peaceful
times when all the world seemed true.
This may be my last day, for all I know;
What a temptation just to spend it so!

-Anne Higginson Spicer