Ol Doinyo Lengai

Smoke billows from the rim
of the colossal rumbling cauldron
of Ol Doinyo Lengai.

The endless plains below wither
from green into yellow,
from yellow into parched brown.
The herds leave, and the predators
linger in the emptiness.

The Mountain of God awakens.

Ash clouds the air,
engulfing every glimmer of sunlight.
The predators stare in bewilderment.
Starving lions gaze at the mountain
as it belches black lava.
It oozes down the smouldering slopes
and sets in clouds of steam.
Ash falls onto the savannah,
carnivores remain in the mountain's shadow
as the black clouds fall.

The sky above the cauldron clears,
rain breaks through.
It soaks the barren fields
and grass sprouts up
like hairs on never-ending skin.

The herds return to their pastures,
the lions feast on their new bounty,
and the Mountain of God
returns to its slumber.

(This poem was originally written for a collection I'm writing for my poetry module, but I decided to share it here as the collection is now heading in a different direction.)