Smoke and Ash

The ash had fallen round about the mountain and she waits
Her remnants covered fields of green with black and dusty night.
After her eruption came a quiet death, a state
Of cold and distant solitude and some quaked at the sight.
But come the morning light, the fire
Has faded to a glow; her ire
Dwindles to a gentle wind
Of hope and peace come round again.

So slowly do the molten trails that reach for miles create
The greenest grass and brightest flowers as time sets things aright.
Below the earth her belly fills with life, and fire gestates
But in the meantime comes the hope of life and growth and light.
The vulcan landscape, built yet higher
Instills fear and yet inspires
As smoke and ash once more has thinned
The mountain welcomes life back in.