Yesterday there were just some stems that seemed to say, “Feed me, Semour.” Today some poppies had broken out of their shells and into the light of day. This one was hiding in the shadow of a baby oak tree that is going to have to be dug out.
Every time that I see the poppies bloom it reminds me of the poem In Flanders Fields. It’s a pretty depressing poem. The poppies only bloom for a short time. They are pretty while they last, but they are gone way too soon. Like the people in the poem. Like people who get cancer and pass away too soon.