The Underworld

Stalactites and stalagmites grow
In caves and caverns underground
Where dripping is the only sound.

The pattern of the water's flow
Is traced aloft in tapered stones
And on the floor in spreading cones.

Above ground, seasons pass in turn,
With atmospheric changes that
Bring turbulence and loss of hat.

The life below is free of churn;
A constancy instead applies,
Avoiding lows as much as highs.

A steady temperature prevails.
Humidity? It never fails
To be the same—there's never rain.
The underworld is safe and sane.

©2019 Michael Fraley

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