Member-only story
I live in the shadow of a volcano.
The spectre of death looms,
Though I no longer view it as such.
I see ferocity bated,
Resting in the warm sun,
Gathered up in afternoon storm-clouds
The incomparable power oddly comforts me.
In all likelihood, eruption will occur aeons after I am ash.
When the mountain awakens, all will change,
Rivulets carve in the landscape, fallout, global cooling,
Craters the size of Manhattan form as the earth kisses the sky
For a burning, brief moment.
Then all will settle again, brush will return,
And the land will once again become
A habitat for the giraffe, zebra, cape buffalo
And curious humans like me.
The end will merely be
Another beginning.
