Letting Go After the Windstorm: a poem

 

Letting Go After the Wind Storm

This morning there’s a dusting of snow
on everything as if the world has
been salted. Yesterday it was so cold
and still, the view was a painted
landscape. It was difficult to believe
the displaced trash can across the street
had just recently been scooting
down the road from the wind,
the trees waving, branches falling
to the ground, garbage flying
to distances unknown. How things
change as the days progress. I still
think of you, but the terrible ache
feels more clouded, your memory
farther away. Is this what it feels like
to let go?  I’m sorry I could not be
perfect for you. Two days ago
I was touched by three different people
and I felt relief, the diffusing of
a nailed balloon that had been
piercing my chest. So this is what
it is like to be cared for. I had forgotten.
I have a life you do not know.
I am building new roots, reaching
new soil, finding new comfort.
You are still within me somewhere,
always, but this new life is what
you wished for me. The growth
after the windstorm. The salt
after the stillness.
Let spring come.
I shall wait for her. I
shall be ready.

  

by Julie S. Paschold
aka Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle
1.24.26

Tattered Moth: a poem

"Tattered Moth" by Julie S. Paschold

aka Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle

Poet, Artist, Agronomist from Nebraska. Author of Horizons (won 2024 Nebraska Book Award) & Human Nature. Resident Poetry Instructor at Omaha’s Lauritzen Gardens. Speaker for Humanities Nebraska Speaker’s Bureau. Semi-finalist in Kate Sommers Memorial Prize, honorable mention in two Writer's Digest contests. 

Dancing With Purpose

 Dancing with Purpose
A Poem

Dancing with Purpose
--After Aaron Davis

What are you afraid of?
he asks in a podcast online
earlier in the day and it
sticks with me
not able to answer that
not able to articulate exactly
what I’m not confronting
or what I’m wanting
What is my potential?
He tells me to start walking
in purpose—
toward what?
I don’t know yet

Later that night
at a costume party
in front of the fire
we start talking about dancing
now that we’re sober—
something I haven’t done
my sweatshirt covering
my costume

I’m pulled into the center
of the circle, sweatshirt off,
told if I’ve got it, flaunt it,
wear it, may I take a picture,
whoops and hollers.
But still I don’t dance.

What am I afraid of?

Late that night, held in bed, 
it comes to me as my man whispers 
I got you:
I’m afraid to be seen unhindered,
I’m afraid of pleasure, of joy.
As if I don’t deserve it
as if dancing implies a loss of control
one step towards crazy:
she’s lost it, like anyone cares.

I’m not afraid of what people think,
I’m afraid of what I feel when I let go:
that freedom, that flying,
that belly-dropping openness.
I’m afraid to dance.

So tomorrow I’m playing the music.
I’m taking off the bulky clothes.
I’m loving the me that I am now.
I’m dancing…
no matter who’s watching.

No walking in purpose. Instead,
I’m dancing in purpose. 
Without fear.

By Julie S. Paschold

10.26.25

Julie S. Paschold (Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle) is a poet and artist from Nebraska with a BS and MS in agronomy from the University of Nebraska at Lincoln. They have published three poetry books. Horizons (Atmosphere Press: paperback & audiobook) honors soil through family, identity, and nature, and won a Nebraska Book Award in 2024. Their chapbook You Have Always Been Here (Bass Clef Books: paperback) is an unconventional love story.  Human Nature (WSC Press: paperback & Atmosphere Press: audiobook) explores humanity’s ecological and environmental connection to nature and the planet earth. Julie is the resident poetry instructor at Omaha’s Lauritzen Gardens and is registered with the Humanities Nebraska Speakers Bureau. Julie has been published in a wide range of publications. Their poem “Multitudes of Blue Arrows” was a semi-finalist in the first Kate Sommers Memorial Prize in 2023, and two of their chapbooks won honorable mention in contests by Writer's Digest in 2021 and 2022. They volunteer for the international Human Library Organization. 

Canning Tomatoes: A to-do via poetry

 Canning Tomatoes: 
A how-to via poetry

 

Way too much red on my kitchen table.
Lumps of juicy flesh lay ripening
on metal trays, pleading to be devoured
            or dealt with,
            and quickly,
for these tomatoes are ripe and ready.

First, to peel and put in jars:
            Set in sink, let the spray bounce back
                        and tiny droplets SLAP
                        your face as you clean and core
                        each one.
            Place in bowls, listen for the SLOP
                        of the water boiling
                        in the tea pot
                        on the stove;
            Pour over waiting fruit.
            Palm each tomato

once surfaces CRACK,
            remove skins, carefully SLICE
            the meaty part into chunks,
            and SLIDE
            into waiting jars.

Second, to boil seals to jars in water bath:
            Set lids on jars, seal-side on clean lips,
                        and SCREW rims over lids—
                        not tightly!
            Gently place in rack
                        in canner
            Cover with warm water
            Heat to boiling
            Wait patiently
                        for over an hour
            Hear the BAM
                        of the canner’s lid RATTLE
                        against the pot as steam
                        escapes;
            Add more hot water
                        to keep jars immersed,
                        watching and waiting,
                        TAPPING toes,
                        until the BUZZ
                        of the timer alerts you.
 

Third, to complete the seal:
            CLAMP heads of jars and—
                        without tilting—
            Bring each glass marvel to rest
                        on towels
            Wait for 24 hours and listen for the
                        POP of each jar lid
                        as your bounty is safely sealed,
                        safely kept,
            Wanting a winter’s day
                        that calls for warm soup.

 

by Julie S. Paschold
aka Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle

Julie S. Paschold: Poet, Artist, Agronomist from Nebraska. Author of Horizons (won 2024 Nebraska Book Award) & Human Nature. Semi-finalist in Kate Sommers Memorial Prize, honorable mention in two Writer's Digest contests. Resident Poetry Instructor at Omaha’s Lauritzen Gardens. Volunteer for the Human Library Organization. https://medium.com/@jpaschold or https://jpaschold.blogspot.com/ .