The volcano is still a mountain 

For it can catch clouds

Force the rain to fall

Sculpt nearby hills. 

 
Gone is its snowy top

Thousands of feet lost 

To air, sky, and atmosphere 

Settled down to ash and dust.

 
But this just gives birth  

To new open lands 

Where the wild chipmunk 

Is a bit more exposed, and 

The eagle hangs upon new 

Thermals and air currents

They... 

Who live close know 

The volcano is still a mountain. 

 
The volcano invites you to watch 

The slow tangle of clouds

Talk & tumble amongst themselves

The new grasses that make up 

desert-like fields, inhabit space 

Where tall evergreens once stood. 

Creeks have been given new paths. 

 
Even a group of crows 

Crying in their best city voices 

Cannot break the volcano’s presence. 

They appear like children at a playground 

Full of noise, laughter, bratty, and playful. 

The volcano welcomes these tricksters. 

Unlike the city, there is plenty of room for 

Them to wander off and stillness returns. 

 
Which is enough for you to notice. 

 
Notice what the volcano wants you to see. 

The distant lake sandwiched between 

A valley under the veil of rain, 

Small dune-like hills of old ash. 

The cougar, elk, and mountain goat’s 

Footprints, along with yours, embedded 

In the leftover dust of the mountainside. 

Fragile prints on top of bare earth. 

 
But it is stillness. 

 
That is the volcano's most important reveal. 

For the sights that surround you 

Stand still, as if they were painted time 

Frozen on easel and canvas. 

Here, you can look and see 

With eternity in your eyes  

Even though you know 

Everything is forever temporary 

And you are but a stroke of a paintbrush 

That is still moist.