Rejoicing the Pond

I sit here pondering

my pond.

I sit here trying to

find just the right words

to describe

the precise shade of its

grey green surface.

Not silvery,

except for spots

at certain angles.

Not pewter,

except now and then

when the light disappears

pewter fits a large patch.

I could say the pond is the

color of an elephant's

hide but then I'd have

to say that doesn't

capture the way the sunlight

plays in winter, skating

across the absolutely

smooth and frozen crust of water.

Why am I so hellbent

on communicating the color

of the pond? Why

am I compelled to freeze into words

the warm excitement I feel staring

out the window at this sight? 

It has everything to do with

the play of light.

Still, I ought to stop trying

to find the right words

and just let my eyes settle

and fill with the awesome 

beauty of the water.

I move my

mind to the bench and there,

I pull my bathrobe tight and

breathe in the breeze and 

rejoice in the pond and the glowing sunlight

which 

suddenly

turns the surface white

and slightly mirrored.