by Elizabeth Bluth


(inspired by the Temple of Zeus at Dodona, Greece)


sprinkles of sun

freckle your cheeks through the leaves above

our heads


as the afternoon breeze

gently lifts

the hair from the back of our necks


we sit with our backs against

the shin-high wall

lulled into a sense of overwhelming peace

staring out


at the vast fields

the soaring mountain ranges

that surround this valley

where oracles of Zeus used to foretell the future

those priests are all dead now

the temples and theatre in ruins

the Olympian rituals forgotten


but the wind in the oak trees remains

still whispering our fortunes

from the king of the gods

if we listen closely



Elizabeth Bluth is a writer of fiction, poetry, and plays. Her work has appeared or is upcoming in LIT Magazine, Emerge Literary Journal, American Writer’s Review, Kissing Dynamite Poetry, and others. She has a BA in Theatre and Creative Writing and an MFA in Fiction from The New School in NYC.






%d bloggers like this: