News flash: Julie’s poem Turning has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize by the Potomac Review. You can read the poem below.

Her second collection of poems, Wing Over Wing, will be published by Paraclete Press in the fall of 2019. It includes many of the poems featured on this page, including Turning.

Julie Cadwallader Staub lives near Burlington, Vermont. Her poems have been featured on Garrison Keillor’s The Writer’s Almanac, published in journals, and included in anthologies.  She was awarded a Vermont Council on the Arts grant for poetry in 2001. Her poem Reverence was anthologized in Garrison Keillor’s book Good Poems: American Places.  Her poem Milk won the 2015 Ruth Stone prize from Hunger Mountain Review, at http://hungermtn.org/news/.

Her first collection of poems, Face to Face, was published by Cascadia Publishing House in June 2010. Read reviews at Amazon.com and add your own! You can purchase Face to Face on either Cascadia’s website or Amazon. In Burlington, VT you can find it at Phoenix Bookstore.  Joy and Guinea Pig –along with sixty other poems– are in this collection. You can hear Garrison Keillor read them on The Writer’s Almanac, by clicking on “listen” on the right, under Navigation.

Route 100

By Julie Cadwallader Staub

Somewhere south of Center Fayston,
Route 100 drops
between steeply forested hills,
their luscious greens already curling
into gold and crimson.

Mine is the only car
on this pocket of a road
and I am suspended
in September’s colors,
mesmerized by autumn’s
clear and changing light.

I barely register
the dead skunk in the road ahead
before that solemn, conclusive thump
under my left front tire

and now that sharp scent
punctuates my every breath
with its tang of wildness,
its slap of mortality.

In Whom We Live and Move and Have Our Being

By Julie Cadwallader Staub

It’s October
Snow geese fly far above the trees in sleek silence.
Canada geese circle noisily above the stubby cornfield.
White pines drop their needles through the clear air
transforming the forest floor into a golden carpet
between one day and the next.

And beneath all that motion lies
mile after mile of aquifer,
acre after acre of unmoving rock
sturdy enough to support this forest
but porous enough that water seeps, squeezes,
filters its way
pore by careful pore.

And who can say which is more amazing
the golden needles
the clear air
those soundless snow geese

or the idea of rock so immense
it upholds this paradise
and so permeable
each drop can find its own way.

Turning

By Julie Cadwallader Staub

There comes a time in every fall
before the leaves begin to turn
when blackbirds group and flock and gather
choosing a tree, a branch, together
to click and call and chorus and clamor
announcing the season has come for travel.

Then comes a time when all those birds
without a sound or backward glance
pour from every branch and limb
into the air, as if on a whim
but it’s a dynamic, choreographed mass
a swoop, a swerve, a mystery, a dance

and now the tree stands breathless, amazed
at how it was chosen, how it was changed.

© 2010 Julie Cadwallader Staub. All Rights Reserved.
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