A Poet Gets Back in the Saddle

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I had a number of children

I was afraid for

I kept them close,

In the backyard

Its peeling blue slatted gates

Adobe wall with a calvary saddle

From my Uncle Pierce—

Each could imagine

riding away,

take her turn there

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We had a black and white puppy

To soothe the shyest ones

And people coming by

With popsickles and homemade

Mac and cheese cassaroles

in long glass trays

.

They huddled together looking out

At the world where other kids

Chased balloons across the horizon

Where bold girls in argyle

rode the tramway

To the top of Sandia Peak

.

Boys with freckles and wild red hair

Came galloping by

On small hardy horses

Pealing out fake war cries

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One day I said to myself

It’s time.

Send them out into the world

And see how they do. You remember

How that is—you did it before

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Before they were children

And they were the bright leaves

Of autumn

Or the dissipating flakes swirling over you

In November.

.

So out into the world I sent

The uncertain little boats

Of my poems

With their big voices

Their long lines

Their crazy first person

Leaning over

Too far.

.

They disappeared over the horizon.

Now, earth wheeling

On its unseen dais

I wait for word of an adoption

or their disconsolate return

Soothing the one within

Half-written and uncertain

.

That wanted to stay home

With me:

When you’re ready

My foundling, my prodigy,

I promise.

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draft 9/30/2010

Jenne’ R. Andrews rights reserved.

*banner:  Moondust Goldens, Netherlands

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