Entry for the macrophotography contest held by 
In Flanders fields where poppies grow
As you probably know, I live in Flanders. More specifically in the west of Flanders, where the frontline of World War One once was. The famous poem by John McRae in honour of his best friend that died on our fields, is in our blood and vains over here.
In Flanders Fields
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.
So now, in late spring the poppies are everywhere, and they remind us of the war, but also we get hope by them, as the bees hum from one to another and create new life...
Death and new life all in one photograph. Think about it...
Sincerely,
Pele23