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 Frightened The bats flew, now and Then 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 Hides Waiting. 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.