I watched friends build this stone and cement path last year. It has hardly had time to build up dust in the corners, but already a poppy blooms there...Poppies, the flower for remembrance, but for me it is also a symbol of peace. When I see a poppy bloom between the railway tracks, in the rock faces, in new stone paths, I see it also as a symbol of hope.
A poppy growing wild, surviving against the odds; a shaft of light in an unexpected place, a dew drop on a blade of grass. Laughter, the sound of voices. The real treasures in life are these.
1 comment:
Those are some pretty remarkable poppies, right there.
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