Anticipation is a calm lake
Or a bubbling sulphuric spring,
Reaction held by surface tension,
Steam showing what is to come.
You wait both excited and anxious
Frantically searching the facade,
Expecting the piercing screech,
Yet all remains silent.
A single external movement
Of word or deed,
An imperceivable internal image,
Can trigger an explosion.
The spouts of rage touching
Everything within reach,
The quaking subsides quietly,
Tension always just under the surface.
This was the first poem I wrote inspired by a photo from my graduation trip. I completed my doctorate in December 2020, but I was unable to walk until October 2021 because of Covid safety protocols. Thus, we had plenty of time to plan a real trip that would take us from Denver and through all states west from Mexico to Canada in two weeks. One of the places mom really wanted to see was Yellowstone, and she insisted on waiting for Old Faithful to erupt. In trying to find the correct geyser (who knew there were so many), I stood watching this one, thinking it was getting ready to go at any moment due to all the steam and boiling water, for almost an hour. This poem was born from that experience. Seriously though, my east coast self had no idea there were so many geysers!