Special Feature: "Pingo" by the Editor

Pingo

An ice volcano~~~~~~~~hydrolaccolith

Whose solid water core covered with earth

With pressure pushing through the permafrost

Oft   called   a   pingo   in   a   tongue   near   lost

Inuvialuit       perhaps       ten       thousand       know

In     northern     polar     lands     all     ice     and     snow

Where        bitter        arctic        winds        forever        moan

But       yet       in       summer       in       the       crater       cone

The       sun’s       dim       rays       atop       the       hillock       make

A            frigid            crystalline            fresh            water            lake

A        mirror        for        the        sun        to        view        its        face

 Across           the           distant           void           of           outer           space

The           silver           surface           turns           to           liquid           gold

To        fill        the        cups        of        the        snow        gods        of        old

                                                                              --Steven Wittenberg Gordon

Poet's Notes:  It is difficult enough to compose a rhyming sonnet in iambic pentameter about an obscure geological phenomenon without all the word painting.  I'm rather proud of this one.