Eyes turn inward.
The tendency is to a trembling resignation
a serene anticipation
in the shadow of the volcano
tendrils of smoke curl
like smiles in the sky
an occasional puff of ash drifts down
in the shadow of the volcano.
We hardly think of it,
grinning dread Zen fatalism in the shadow of the volcano.
the rumbling beneath our feet
is just a minor inconvenience.
To be honest, we’ve tried
moving but somehow the shadow
of the volcano always finds us,
Living in the shadow of the volcano
has its drawbacks, but you get used to it.