Let's lay down some lines for Langston Hughes <br />this day of news: 20 January 2009. A fine <br />piece of the dream's no longer deferred, though <br />the thought's occurred that Mr. Hughes <br />might focus on the people out of work or, <br />working, out of money. (Remember: <br />he gave even Roosevelt what-for.) Still I see <br />him in a Harlem bar, sitting next to <br />Jesse B., speaking in his clipped <br />Midwest English, having sipped <br /> <br />something fortified, brown eyes bright and wide. <br />He'd be smoking if they'd let him, saying <br />or thinking, 'Lord, a day has come I never even <br />dreamed to dream in 1921.' He'd go back <br />to the brownstone with its small garden <br />in front, sit down, and write a simple, profound <br />lyric capturing the spirit of President Obama's day. <br /> <br />Cross the Jordan, cross the Nile, cross the Congo- <br />and that Ocean, too. Cross the Harlem and <br />the Hudson Rivers. Cross the Mississsippi. Dear <br />Madame Johnson: Mr. Obama crossed the Potomac. <br />That's a fact, no not some dream. Think <br />of Mr. Hughes's rivers. The soul shivers.<br /><br />Hans Ostrom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/langston-hughes-and-barack-obama/
