herds of buffalo

don't even try to crawl over desert rocks!
the political pollsters and bobby socks
collecting answers to all the easy questions,
underneath the shooting stars and harvest moon
arriving late or stumbling into the busy streets before high noon,
are remembering herds of buffalo and passing tribes with tents
but favoring apartment blocks and monthly rents,
a change of tune and a five hundred dollar bill;
waiting for the next dance with a weekend thrill,
betting on a Kentucky Derby horse or a passing bus,
watching the super bowl and all the halftime fuss;
drifting over the sound a free-running river makes,
excusing how the white man takes and takes,
singing bible songs within a hard-seated church
while not seeing the eagle flying from her wind-swept perch,
or a Spirit vision or endless wild grasses waving in an vast prairie,
or hearing the wisdom of an ancient forest tree.