Into the swirling Summer's gale,
Arms flailing to and fro;
Legs churning on the blacktop trail,
And miles of road to go.

Four months the mighty muscles screamed
Like torture on the Bay;
The price of every Patriot's dream,
And records blown away.

Four Kenyans storm into the lead
That stretched with every stride;
Four million raised for souls  in need,
And hearts infused with pride.

The dreaded wall atop the hill
Where only eagles dare;
Two hooded heathens dressed to ****,
And hope erupts in fear.

The virtual space of every room
From Boston to Belfast,
Explodes like meteors on the Moon,
And Twitter's horns on blast.

A line that many never cross
From civil creed to hate
Define the lives we live and lost,
And freedom swings the gate.

Into the swirling Summer's gale,
Arms flailing to and fro;
Legs churning on the blacktop trail,
And miles of road to go.

~ P
(4/16/2013)