Volcano that sleeps

by Emmanuel George Cefai (b. 1955)
When the volcano sleeps
The clouds gather round
like hawks on the face
Of a frowning heaven.

The volcano sleeps
And dreams
Of lava red and scalding
And smokes from vents
All spurting.

And it was night
And above circled high
The night-stars
The bats flew, now and
A solitary owl wisely
Sped herself
Opened full her wings
To by-pass high
The nether hell of red
To trees of safety.

History behind a rock
Near yet safe
Then when the feast of the
Volcano's wrath subsides
In hieroglyphic hands
And characters
Writes down
For discoverers to come
Decades after, see
Discuss and wonder
What happened on the night
The fateful night
Of the Volcano.

Published by Robin

I'm a retired journalist who still has stories to tell. This seems to be a good place to tell them.

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