Smells of cheese popcorn and spring rain rise on the mist. Wet boardwalks lead groups of people in a hurry to see as many sites as miles traveled. Bison lumber and slumber and own it, fur scuffing off in brown bug ridden mats, snorting and keeping to themselves. New pine trees grow in clusters around the bottoms of burned out ancestors from the firestorms of 1988. Shell Spring drains and gurgles and hisses in an endless patient cycle. A cycle of filling up and draining from far beneath the crusty raw opal marks time. Another clot of restless travelers tries to see the big picture as Shell hisses and bubbles and mother earth sighs fitfully. Back in the parking lot a new vent opens and pushes the asphalt away.
Sally Franklin Christie
Shell Spring, Yellowstone National Park
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