Hula Dancers

According
to the geological version
the depths of earth
are rock on fire, molten,
that made this caldera
of lava and drifting steam
where the grey cairns stacked by hikers stand
like spirits.

But
here, in a vent,
ferns greet the light
with open palms
in the gesture
that makes no difference
between receiving and giving,

and
here, in a crevice
stained with sulphur crystals
crunching under my old boots,
ferns heave,
wind rippled, bursting greenly
out the seams;

in
fact wherever the earth
is cracked open
among these ropes, skeins

and giant cow pats of lava,
ferns emerge.

It’s
clear
the center of the earth
is made of ferns.