The Ethereal Divine
I stood atop a copper-colored cliff,
the rocks beneath me cantilevered,
forging for me a perch from which
I could shape the white cotton clouds
into celestial portals. The sky-tunnels
that spiraled forth from them
were formed from deep blue
lapis lazuli and spider-spun gold.
I gazed up at them.
I let my head fall back.
I closed my eyes
and felt the rich syrup of colors
melt on my upturned face.
This was the mask of my constant days,
collected and uncounted.
Cynthia Pitman is a retired high school English teacher. She began writing again in the summer of 2018 after a 30-year hiatus. She has since had poetry published in Amethyst Review, Vita Brevis, Leaves of Ink, Right Hand Pointing, Third Wednesday, and others. Her first book, The White Room: A Poetry Collection, is forthcoming from Kelsay Books.
