NaPoWriMo_01

Under the volcano
little tremors signal
rock-melt rising.

Old fissures open,
pushed by gas front
ahead of liquid magma.

Around the vent pressure drops
and the ground rips apart,
rises, pulverised, into cloud.

Lightning flashes white
against black smoke,
against golden lava.

Red rockets lift off,
rain rock warheads
on the ash slopes.

This is no place
for life, killing fumes
fall from the sky.

Colin Will
01/04/2013