Eruption at Kilauea Caldera

Eruption at Kilauea Caldera

Lava fields smell of unlit stoves.
The smoke from vents is milk
Poured into coffee.

A cragged lunar landscape 
Petrified by sun and wind,
White driftwood trees

Crawl into the tissue sky,
Like scratching nails
On the fingers of angry witches.

Cinder crunches under foot ; 
Smooth glassy sheets pop beneath me.
Red magma swims beneath the crust

I walk on, scalds my feet.
The ground creeps, prowls. 
Brilliant lava flows in sheets

Of molten heat, eats wood, 
Sputters against shrubbery 
until the fire absorbs air.