A metronym, oddly enough:

I always move better under water,
never mastering the art of breaking
tension with a minimum of fuss and spray.

From down below shapes sway around each push;
you can sculpt what’s above, within limits.
And all sounds’ meanings form waves of pressure.

But eventually I still must breathe, sigh.
Staying under so long spreads worries out,
a second spash to those who caught the first.

I like skimming a bunch of the prompt sites and waiting until something catches. This started without my realizing it follows Shanna Germain’s prompt. I’d love to push this into a longer form like a sonnet, but I never seem to return and edit any of these.