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Image by Scott Welzbacher


A dive into the ocean offers the poet a sense of enchantment, beauty and weightless freedom that translates into the spontaneous and heady flow of verse.

Crumbling earth clings to my calloused soles, 

bare toes curled against disintegrating rocks intermixed with grainy sand. 

Grasping at the worn edges of the jagged cliff. 

Frigid winter air washes over me.

Raising mountains and digging valleys,

across the topography of my prickling skin.

I leap, suspended in midair.


Before gravity pulls me back down, ever insistently.

Tugging me back towards the water waiting below.

Whirling wind whips around me

and flies through my outstretched fingertips.

Tangling and twisting and curling its fingers through my hair.

Icy waves wash over me-

suspended in the silky smoothness,

wrapped around my weightless figure-

gently brushing my body, floating towards the surface.

Shivering, I gasp, feeling the brittle air

fill my lungs- chilling me to my very core.

As a thin sheen of water droplets,

dance across my skin.

Reading Glasses on Book

Madison Burba's poetry.

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