Tragedy causes us to be on perpetual high alert…poet Barbara Crane explains.

Poet Barbara Crane

High Alert

After the Boston bombings,
the perpetrators still at large,
I’m wary walking these sidewalks.
A guy is coming toward me
in a baseball cap, dark glasses,
and a gray canvas pack
strapped across his chest.
With quickened breath
I turn to get away
until I see the strap
hanging from his pack
start to kick–
a tiny leg
in blue.
Just as we pass,
I hear the baby coo.

– Barbara Crane

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