In The Shadow Poem by John F. McCullagh

In the shadow
I live in the shadow
the shadow of the mountain
Vesuvius.

the days are warm
The soil is fertile
I grow olives and I grow
rich.

Long ago the mountain rumbled
spewing lava, pumice stone
Pliny told us of the horror
Pompeians dying in their homes.

the days are warm
The soil is fertile
I grow olives and I grow
old..

Life in good in greater Naples
We live in an expensive home
every now and then a rumble
vulcan working at his forge