At the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month...

...the guns fell silent.

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.
LTC John McCrae

In America, of course,  this poem is usually reserved for Memorial Day; however, what was once known here as Armistice Day is still known in most commonwealth nations as simply "Poppy Day", and serves the same purpose as Memorial Day here. Especially since the poem was written by a serving Canadian officer, I felt it was appropriate.

Also, FWIW, if I did the time conversion correctly this will post at 1100 AM UTC -1, Paris, France time.