To me, they have the quality of cave drawings--utterly simple but knowing and nonetheless full of information and movement.
My father-in-law's grave in our orchard as yet has nothing on it but young, deer-bitten coneflowers, and a lovely iron bench for sitting and reflecting. Maybe that's enough, right there. And maybe it isn't. If I could put anything there I'd put a stone piano, because jazz was his voice. We'll see. I think about it a lot, especially when I walk Mt. Auburn's citadel of the beloved and well- remembered.