Meditation

If this is my last day
I am content
sitting outside in weathered chair
a spectator among wondrous gardens
colored with pastels and neon flourishes
zinnias, cosmos, phlox, cleome
and one leftover pansy

if this is my last day
the reds are particularly red
the greens rich and deep
the blue empyreal true
the air hums its late summer tunes
a single lemon lily among exhausted blooms
invites my undivided attention

if this is my last day
I want to hitch a ride upon a bee’s wing
to see beyond the impenetrable edge
to hear the cosmic carillon
to touch dark, enchanted matter
to find another planetary rock
circling an above-average star

if this is not my last day
I am content.