Boston Marathon Bombing

Run the good race on Patriot's Day,
It is Spring, and the bare branches blossom.
Near the ribbon's rest, a harvest bray,
And the bare limbs fall in Boston.

No lantern lit in the North Church Tower
To warn Red was coming by land.
No cover of night for the violent hour -
For the bloody work, vilely planned.

"Sweet April!" sadly turned to Autumn,
"Life's golden fruit is shed."
But Patriot's yet run in Boston,
Unlike cowards with bombs, who have fled.

Poem written April 15, 2013, published in Loaves and Fishes, available through bookstorexlibris.com , Amazon.com and bn.com