Scorned

Her steamy moods fear no one,
they are the smoldering and smoky signs
of her pending outbursts
volatility spewing her fiery sulfuric juices
across any face or textured desired.

The season of her silence is so unpredictable,
no rhyme nor reason avails her whims,
before her vomited rage spills forth,
nothing able to stop the power of her wrath
from moving as a hellish slug over life,
smothering the landscape
with her intensely scorching mantle.

Scorned by the slightest lack of respect,
ready to explode without warning,
death and destruction she doesn’t restrain
when her desire erupts in white hot rivers.

From her many pumice hats
warn to hide her seething thoughts
she’ll allows her ire to suddenly appear,
reminding how her anger is never subdued
merely has its moments of quiet
before the next time
that her fury flows
as the molten streams,
devouring peace and scenery.