Sometimes a person has to leave home, even if that home is the most marvelous place she’s ever lived, even if her mother will be diagnosed with terminal cancer, and her beloved farmer, a man she’s loved for years asks her to marry him. Janice Westfahl feels called to publicize Godspeed Books, a small evangelical publisher outside Chicago, a good thousand miles away from upstate New York. The job fits her, a woman who loves God and books. But Janice finds herself working with Jeremiah Sackfield, a radical right-wing activist, who toys with revolution. Even though she is a brilliant publicist, Janice feels like she is betraying herself by promoting a cause she doesn’t believe in. Like the elder brother in the Prodigal Son story, her brother has stayed home, furious his sister has dodged the painful months of his mother’s dying, while earning their father’s favor. When her father dies, they must settle the estate with this jealousy flickering between them.
Poetry – When The Plow Cuts
Available on Amazon.
“These poems are strong and tender and beautiful. She is a poet.” Madeleine L’Engle
“Katie Andraski is a fine poet. She has a marvelous feel for what a line is, a rare sense of resolution, and an absolutely, raw sensuality. I read her for joy.” Miller Williams
“It is the imagery of these poems that constantly twist the reader into new seeing. The girl moves from a farm and field innocence through desire to sexual and experiential fulfillment. These are excellent lyrics — and, taken altogether, a psychological and spiritual history.” Walter Wangerin Jr
Read Poetry from When The Plow Cuts
The first summer Mr. Miller planted winter wheat,
he brought us a jar with a red rose on the lid
full of seeds smooth as fannies. He handed them
to my mother to show her what he would…
A Virgin Considers Making Love to a Roughneck
He says it’s only a black plain with derricks
pumping oil out of the ground and stars.
Small rigs nod yes again and again…
Why Girls Love Horses
The stallion grows out of my arm.
About to cover a mare, he suckles the wind.
The filly breathes close to me.
I breathe in tune with her…
To the Man who Wants Her to Trust Him
Spend time with trees
because you dreamed the best tree
the tree galloping with stars in its mane.
Chasten yourself to hope…
Descent of the Dove
While I stood in the bookstore, I looked
at the vet’s picture book of Yorkshire.
The owner’s voice creaked underfoot…
Prayer for a Pastor
Let him be the road where we walk to know You.
(I know the road I want him to be.
It’s graveled with bluestone and ruts.
A short way along the road, pines stand…
When my mother and my father died I saw again
Camp Debruce, a fish hatchery in the Catskills.
There my father and I stood by clear pools
like plates collected in my mother’s dry sink…
He Took Me Up
He took me up in his tractor
and showed me how a thunderhead stirs
the earth because he rides close to it.
Like the king of the Greek gods, he touches…
In Thy Light Shall We See Light (Ps. 36: 9b)
But the light fell on him,
the brushed-back green light,
a tidal surge of trees and brush
poised over a plowed field…