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.
I hope that everyone is well. Things have been busy at work -- for good and bad.
I was moved by TriSec's scouting blog.
As for myself, I have some work to do here at home and will spend time with friends. I have taken some thoughts for those who died in service to this nation. Let us think of them as we enjoy the comfort of family and friends.