WELCOME! BENVENUTI!

Jenne' Andrews is an American poet. She has three published chapbooks including the recent Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, Finishing Line Press 2013.

A full-length collection, Reunion, Lynx House Press, was published in 1983; after a long hiatus to raise Golden Retrievers in Colorado, recent work has appeared in The Passionate Transitory, Belletrist Coterie, The Adirondack Review and Vox Populi, a journal of culture, politics and poetry published and edited by the august Michael Simms.

A bilingual collection of "Italiana," Bocca, Voce, Delirio, with translations by Lorenzo Luciani, will be released by Finishing Line at the end of 2016 and her latest collection, And Now, the Road, a finalist for the Autumn House prize in 2014, will be released by Salmon Poetry Ltd, Ireland, a highly regarded international house, Jessie Lendennie, Publisher, circa 2017.

Andrews holds the MFA in Creative Writing/Poetry from Colorado State University, is a literary fellow of the National Endowment for the Arts, and was full-time Poet in Residence for the St. Paul Schools from '74-78. She lived in St. Paul from 1971-78 during the first wave of the Twin Cities literary renaissance, and spent the summer of 1973 in Reggio Calabria, Italy.

The poet lives in northern Colorado's Poudre River Valley with her husband, fiction writer Jack Brooks; the couple has recently imported two British Golden Retrievers and expects a litter in June-- see the Ardorgold website for details. Contact: jenneandrews2010@gmail.com .

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

New Poem: The Riding By, for DVerse OLN and Beyond...



The Riding By

Tonight, late, the first cold mist rises
from the lawns; then I see Summer
riding by, on her pale horse,
its long tangled mane woven
with heavy-bodied sunflowers.

Long ago in early autumn
the migrants harvesting the sugar beet
fields would awake to the sound of the train.
They would pitch themselves out of bed,
swill cold coffee and head with their hoes
down dirt roads to the laden fields.

For what, as a living wage back then?
I remember the slow-moving trains
of sugar beets, the plumes of smoke
from the small barrio houses
on the early morning before dawn.

For the sake of all leavetakings,
Summer has dark roses in her hair
and dried tears on her cheek.
She leaves a tarnished wedding ring
in the stiff grass;
she drops a sheaf of letters
that disperse in a low wind.

All things fade into the dark.
Yet Summer rides unhurried to the station,
tethers her horse and when the Union Pacific
rolls in, jumps the tenth car
into October. 

We had barely begun to speak,
exchange details of one another's lives,
speak of the barrio children in the swings,
before she heard the geese flying in
to reunite in the stubble.

It is first light now
and settling into my comforter,
the dog dreaming in shadows,
I hear her rocking horse departure.




 copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012

5 comments:

Brian Miller said...

love the detail of your little bario...wonderful imagery...esp of summer....i absolutely love these lines jenne...

She leaves a tarnished wedding ring
in the stiff grass;
she drops a sheaf of letters
that disperse in a low wind.

Maureen said...

I like the contrasts evoked by Summer "on her pale horse" and a mane "heavy-bodied" with sunflowers, which pull down, while plumes of smoke rise. You take us into the season with "jumps the tenth car /into October". Love the concluding line.

Timoteo said...

The changing of the seasons is so bittersweet in places where there is real winter...I almost miss it...a testament to the effectiveness of your words...the ending gave me goosebumps.

ayala said...

I love these lines...then I see Summer
riding by, on her pale horse,
its long tangled mane woven
with heavy-bodied sunflowers. :)

Mark Kerstetter said...

The sense of time passing is portrayed here very poignantly (the 4th verse is very beautiful), but I also really like how you've evoked the feel of a former way of living, almost like we're looking at photographs of early October from about 100 years ago.