Monument

Jennifer Wren Call

Once,
the sea cracked open,
and the Earth poured out—

boiling the ocean,
building a mountain.

Ridges—
not erosion.
Scars of the Earth,
from hot molten breath.

It grew green.
It summoned mist.
Rain into rock,
roots into stone,
birds into nest.

Now it watches.

A monument—
that makes you
look up.