Seeds

"I should leave" she said. "I'll beat the cross-border traffic if I go now". "Take this" he said, weaving a flower through her buttonhole. "And this". Reaching down, he snapped a seed pod from a growth of small orange blooms. "You know I can't take that over the line" she said. "They'll never know if you don't tell them" he whispered. She waits for spring, and the promise in the envelope she's marked "Scott's Seeds."