the larks still bravely singing fly

[ursamajor]

so i looked up and out the window and there were these gorgeous cotton-candy clouds floating along outside, stained pink by the setting sun.

and outside, there were people, cherishing the warmth of a summer evening, but more so than usual. it's in the air - no one wants to say anything, make any direct references that might taint the spirit of tonight. celebrate togetherness. remember innocence. silently hope that everything remains peaceful, but shake the worry out of your head before it can affect things, for now.

but never, ever take things for granted.

that's why they're out now, strolling with their babies, picnicking on the grass, sitting at cafe tables for hours. relaxing. being neighborly. telling the stories that the clouds are writing. all this, activities typical to a summer evening - but with a keen subtextual urgency to it.

tomorrow is for mourning, remembrance, and peacefully honoring the people who died a year ago, and the way of life that died with them. tonight - tonight.

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.
--john mc crae, in flanders fields