In memory of the many soldiers that have died serving the U.S. or in any country that allowed the rest of us to have freedom, here’s the famous Flanders fields poem by Canadian John McCrae, written during World War I:
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields
The two orange “blobs” in my photo (behind the rocket-like white columbine) are marigolds.
On a related topic, What’s a Doughboy?