It Isn't the End of the World

Bethany Fischer

I stare at my bare flower bed,
The leaves threatening to change color,
And think of fall fast approaching.

Harvest will soon be upon us. 
As will the time of celebrating our hard work
And enjoying the fruits of our labor.

But what if I didn’t work hard?
What if my plants didn’t grow,
And I couldn’t be bothered?

I suppose the fire will still be roaring.
There will still be blankets to snuggle under,
The air will still smell crisp,
And the leaves will still change color. 

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