Good morning, pond.

I know that you can’t hear me,

or feel how happy I am

to see you gleaming

in the rising sunlight.

It’s just that words

swell in me

when I see your stillness,

the blue sky shining on your surface,

the trees like silhouettes floating

across from me,

and so I speak,

not caring if it’s silly.

Nothing is foolish when it comes

from a simple,

spontaneous spark

that lets me to say

these words

as if speaking to a neighbor

who doesn’t care

that I am

living on its shore.

And so,

I greet you, lovely pond,

knowing its your nature to ignore,

while it’s mine--

to speak to the air.