Here, where subterranean runnels of life

Bubble to the surface

Like the fumaroles of Yellowstone

And spread across the days,

we pry up the crust just a crack,

And wonder, with a tightening of the throat,

What it would be like if all laid hid were bared

And we didn't come just to see,

But expected to stay here.

February 27, 2008