“In Flanders Field the Poppies grow, between the crosses row on row.” I remember when I had to learn, to recite that poem in grade school so long ago. I now have a new twist on that old poetic line.
“In El Santuario de Chimayo the crosses blow on fences row on row.” Sweet Brother Bill’s oldest son Shane spent some time here recently and he (my nephew) and I did a tour of Northern New Mexico, just for fun.
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