John Horvath Jr

Walking along the rails with my stick
I watch birds rise ahead and scatter:
I am measureless, something imagined
that draws panic, causes migrations.

Where sunlight dances through shrubs,
there is a dream of movement; swallows
and sparrows and crows rise together--
a moment of thought and they're moving
to another place out of harm's way;
armies amass like that--their souls
are mixed tribes, crow and sparrow.

My soul yearns for mixed tribes,
and my soul is against them.

In my thought of leaving here -- I am my father,
his father, and his, thinking through comings
and goings on rails, on wagonwheels, and...

I am
This, my moment of thought,
my dream of movement.

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The 2River View, 3_2 (Winter 1999)