Tina J Gordon
Along the Sciara del Fuoco in the Mediterranean, you can hear the earth
rumble, heave, sigh.
Like a heart that’s broken, it grieves.
Listen in awe as the thunderous rage shifts to quiet weeping.
Whether roaring like waves against the shore,
or whispering a steady, discernible thump of a pulse,
the ancient volcano demands attention.
Uncontrolled spectacles appear without warning.
Look away and you miss bursts of smoke, flame, lava, ash;
they fall back to earth shedding their incandescent beauty, dangerous as
a scorned lover. Their tiny explosions erratically foreshadow a spew of
The eruption is inevitable.