A black ooze solidifies
still shaped
like its liquid counterpart
a lava crust over a still fertile soil
after thirty years of zero growth
blades of grass break through.
The first trees like corkscrews
twisted and hard seek nutrients and sun
after one hundred years
a forest green and robust
the crumbled pieces of
obsidian and pumice
are perfect for a new generation
of growth
unless the ground rumbles
and lava overflows
hot and fluid
down the mountainside
into the lake
bringing silence...
nature's tomb
encased for another
hundred years.
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