Neil wanders the world in awe – Mirrors and metaphor everywhere. You can join him on this journey with a Poem in your Inbox every day. CLICK HERE to start today
Featured post
An Invitation
How Thorough Was Thoreau
Never Thought Of It As Solitude
Prairie Wool
Jeanne-Marie Writes A New Book
Biggar Saskatchewan’s town motto: New York is Big, but this is Biggar
Jeanne-Marie Makes Bread
Wheat
Swathing
Cloud Sonnet
War Wounds
Remembering Poppies
In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
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.