There is something eerily beautiful and heartbreaking about waking at 4:30 to the sound of a lone drummer as hundreds march silently on the street below.

In a way this drizzly morning seems perfect for remembrance, makes it more real. . .though that is easy for me to say while sitting warm, wrapped in an aeroplane blanket at my computer.

“They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.”*

We will remember them

Today is Anzac Day .

  I always continue to hear this song for hours after it is played. . .maybe that's the point.

Lest we forget. . .

LB 

* from the Laurence Binyon poem: For the Fallen