Debt   Black Jack from Powder River rode miles out of his way Carried guns that bristled on that blustery day word spread quick from town to town he was on the prod didn't make no never mind he was after a man of God   he'd stop to talk or ask a question where men do such things then ride ahead to cross some hills past the bird that sings folks would tell of his eyes that burned under his broad hat and how he'd pass a coin to them and leave like a cat   took two weeks to reach the town that met the railroad track that had come across from Chicago to take the cattle back it was certainly a sight to see the herds milling penned while cowhands drank and ate their fill here at the end   but those things didn't interest Jack as he rode to a church that set a piece back off the road by a stand of birch immigrants had planted trees to have wood for homes Jack didn't think of them instead he thought of poems   five to be exact, those were all he'd ever learned he'd never been taught to read but had always yearned been five years ago a man had taught him these words he was shot and holed up in a barn with the roosting birds   Black Jack didn't know who took the time to read his eyes were covered with a cloth as he was in need after ten days he was able to recite the poems back his caretaker said it seemed he had a knack   but Jack woke up one day and knew the man was gone he took the wrap off of his face and rode away next dawn soon his life went back to the curse of rob and run but things were leaner now cause more law held the gun   now he was outside the church where he'd trailed a man knowing now who'd cared for him when it wasn't in his plan in his mind Jack said the poems just like he did each day he left his guns outside the church as he figured what to say

©Steve Dirksen