Poetry of Judith Castle

There is a path which no fowl
knoweth, and which the vulture’s eye hath not seen.
Job 28: 7
The Bible: King James Version

A handsome pair of wolves
recline on the opposite bank—
nervous, alert, resting
alongside the icefall.
A green flash, a blue flash,
the stars feel very near,
and you and your fellow travelers
turn east, toward home.

Amy Gerstler,
Four Meditations on an Ice Puddle, IV
in Crown of Weeds


I am a hollow log wrapped in moss
an ear listening beneath
a dying tree.

In sleep my dreams hover on nightmare.
Around me last year’s leaves

An owl’s cry declares me stranger lying here
among roots and rain, feeding
on snow, wound
in old vines.

From an ancient fir
raven tugs on my life’s green thread
unravels moss from my grave, crying

Wake! Wake!


                for Pam and Larry

In the parking lot behind our building
snow falls

on the couple walking together
from a van.

Their hands are empty, but when they turn
to each other and smile

I imagine branches of wild orange blossoming
in their arms

fragrance of petals blessing
the cold air.

I open my window.


Lovers are passing by
scattering grace.