They left their bare footprints
in what was then wet volcanic ash,
now hardened into crystalline igneous tuff,
several individuals of varying size
headed away from danger.
Along their switchback route
one member stumbles, knees and hands
press into a dark slurry of soft ash.
A larger set of prints turns back.
The pair resumes their journey
walking with a shortened stride.
——
David Jibson lives and writes in Ann Arbor, MI, USA. His poetry has appeared in a number of journals and his book, Small Poems, was published in January of last year. He is retired from working in hospice.