Fresh water meets underground heat
Regular geysers put on spectacular displays
Steaming vents too hot to be beautiful
Trickles burdened with minerals create fragile skyscrapers
Mudpots making blup, bloop, blup noises
Some erupt once never to be seen again
Others put on regular, daily shows
Some of the vents are fresh
Some are extinct after a few releases
Others go on unchanged for years
There’s peace here in spite of the power
Beauty amid the chaos
Energy channeled by form
On a back trail is a small, warm spring called the Lost Sheep
Normally quietly content, occasionally more moved
Now and then finding enough heat to bubble out a poem
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