I think that I shall never see
A lava flow more sweet than thee.
Thy blackened edges, smould’ring still,
That skirt around the little hill
And leave a green kipuka bright
Illumed by lava day and night.
The steady fumes of CO2
With sulphur touches through and through.
So lovely is thy lethal heat,
The radiation by my feet
That indicates the magma’s reach
From mountain high to black sand beach.
When first I knew thee, thine own birth
Was posited as cracking earth
And isostatic movements great,
Yet now I know ’tis moving plates.
I long one day to see thee more,
To walk upon thy shifting shore,
To watch the glow upon the rise
That shows where vent and tunnel lies.
I’ll see thee yet, and walk thy ways
In shoes that have seen better days,
And give to Pele that which she
Demands of vulcan-philes like me.
