This poem falls into the category of a “Hard Twenty” poem for me, a poem that I write in no more than twenty minutes, revising only as I have time.

As such, I am unsure of its quality or effectiveness.

On the other hand, that is true for every poem that I write.

I did not run this poem by my poetry mentor. I enjoy that process, but it takes time, and my day is busy, so …

This story about jumping off my friend Scott’s barn roof into snow is true, as much as I remember. It popped into my head this morning as I thought about jumping off the Cape May Ferry this coming Sunday from twelve feet above the Atlantic Ocean.

The water will certainly be colder than the snow. And I will certainly be more terrified than I was then.

I cannot explain how such a fear entered my life. I must have left a door open somewhere.

But I will jump. My wife Wendy will be beside me both of us starting the swim leg of the “Escape the Cape” triathlon.

I have jumped from this height or higher into water many times in my fifty-eight years. I did flips off the high dive at summer camp. I jumped off a cliff from twenty-five feet into eight feet of water. I jumped off the side of a bridge from fifteen feet into the Androscoggin River.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Of the several poems I read this morning, I’ll mention “Stepping Out of Poetry” by Gerald Stern as the biggest influence on the shape of this poem.

I took the image above on a run in Florence this past April. From a distance I could see the ferris wheel and thought it might be as big as the London Eye. Alas, it was much smaller yet fit the area better.