Soft bright colour on your roof
pegged to dry in ocean breeze
flying high on the blue
The mountain bursts, vomits fire and ash
ash that drifts, soft as snow
There, on your washing
an eyelash width of coal
another and another
speckles and chars
You are running to the boats
not stopping to breathe
Later, panic over, you return to
bring in your cloths of bright colour
see little mouths burnt through
black lipped, gasping
The mountain glows with lava
makes a second dawn each night
You wrap your damaged goods around you
sleep by the door
heaped in fear
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Sharing with earthweal’s Open Link Weekend.