Thermals of Yellowstone

Snow does not win victory at Hell’s door,
It transforms to screaming steam,
rising above the piled snowflakes.

Lowly bacteria feed on the heat.
The shimmering water stained,
as colored glass in a cathedral.

A restless beauty reigns imminent,
with destruction a growing sister,
certain to spoil a glorious landscape.

A tumble beneath the inviting waters,
harkens instant reincarnation,
and a meeting with a vast universe.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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Andresen Avatar
September 27, 2013 at 12:33 PM
- A beautiful poem, Wayne ..... My favorite snow is on the Christmas Cards, not outside my window. - oxox // Anne-Lise :)
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