You’re Not the End of the World. The World’s Just Getting Started.

Lilacs blooming purple to the right.
Something else without a smell blooming
Dead ahead, just as large, paper-white.

To the left a matched ballroom-dress red
And under that, magenta blossoms.
Fuzzy, fat bumblebees in them all.

Someone, years ago, planted these things.
Once a week or so, a gardener shows
And does a couple hours of weeding.

Whoever plotted this flower show
Lives somewhere far away, if at all.
How quickly would birch and conifers

Surround and starve these ornamentals
Of their summer sun? Life’s just begun.