As we drive up along the crater's rim
to where the lake come into view
two hundred feet
I'd guess or more below the road
my wife who's been perusing a brochure
informs me that this lake's the deepest
in the nation
that's interesting I suppose
but I'm more taken
with the Clark's nutcracker
whose coalblack eyes watch from the branches
of a whitebark pine
rooted in sandy soil here on the rim
and with the vast expanse of blue
stretching what seems a mile
past Wizard Island to the cliffs
that line the farther edges of the lake
a skyblue sea set down within sheer walls
lacking anything you'd call a shore
its surface shimmering in the mid-day sun
it's no Grand Canyon
still the sense of space
falling away is palpable
you feel the power
lurking below the surface of the land
the violence of the blast that long ago
created this serene landscape
of quiet waters with their island
topped with conifers
hidden depths left to ones imagination
a gift of the volcano whose abandoned shell
now houses this blue treasure