Staffa (An Original Prose Poem)

This tiny little island, with beauty large enough to satisfy the universe, is almost too breathtaking to be real. This island is home to nature and nothing else. People come and go, but it is still a place of sweet seclusion not yet ruined by gift shops and litter. This is a place where the waves go from cerulean to frothy white just before they dance onto dry land and disappear. The water is so blue, yet so crystal clear enough to discover the small wildlife hidden underneath. As you turn away from the water, a salty spray mixed with a cool welcoming breeze bids you farewell. Climbing higher, higher, and higher still, you feel as if you’re on top of it the world. The blazing sun is warm on your face, yet goose bumps creep onto your skin as a chilly wind sneaks up on you from behind. As you balance your way across this beauty’s uneven terrain, you stop for a moment to examine the flowers. Clusters of white, yellow, purple, and pink dot the island in perfect patterns. The grass is soft under your feet and very pleasant to touch. Farther on, your curiosity kicks in and you crawl to the very edge of a cliff. You’re not afraid, just surprised at just how far away from the water you truly are. Right before your eyes, the warmth of the afternoon sun lightly kisses the hundreds of puffins who have been nesting in the sides of the cliff. This majestic scene brings a tear to your eye because it feels as if you are in a fairy-tale land. Backing slowly away from the cliff, the silly wind runs into you again, wanting to play. Once you chase the wind as it skips across the rocks, you come to the cave and really begin to feel as if you are in a pirate story. You are sad when you realize that you cannot go all the way inside because of the dangerous rock formation, but at the same time you are happy to have made it this far. When it is time to take the boat back home, you say goodbye to Staffa. The waves crash, the sea gulls take flight, and the breeze blows in response.