Poppies and Poppies and Poppies

Visiting the medieval excavation atop the Hemmaberg, I found a field of wild growing poppies.

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I was reminded of the poem about the poppies in Flanders fields.

At first I thought that this was not the time to talk of it. 

But then it came to me that

 anytime is the right time to speak of the horror and sorrow of war.

So here is the Poem, 

written on 3rd of May 1915 by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae 

of the Canadian Expeditionary Force.

In Flanders Fields

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

Bertstravels