Notes and Seeds

I was in the garden today, had done some weeding thinking, if only my favorite blossoms would have such will all their own, drive to overcome with less my fawning attention I thought of my child really having never left my side, yet curious about bees and nectar, whether flowers consciously resent winter...and what would happen to all should I die before spring I thought of my more tenacious perennials also of the many seeds I have saved, carefully labeled and stored, each with its own little note more aware now of why I write, I wondered what should the note on my own grave be, a simple date or paired with something witty to illicit a smile or a trickle of tear I think the smile better written perhaps with seeds that birds can pick away at, take off fuller in the belly, to casually relieve themselves wherever their wings are apt to fly