I can be a pond.

Something small,

hidden behind towering grasses.

Maybe inhabited,

with a small number of fish.

An occasional breeze,

would send ripples throughout my body.

But,

I would,

sure enough,

become still again.

I am a pond.

I am a small body of water,

Waiting for the wind to part the grasses,

Waiting for the rain to fill my waters,

So that I can show the world,

the waves that I can make.