I’m sorry, but

the hearing, the seeing is beyond my control
I can choose my words with discrimination
sifting through, selecting,
looking for a pebble that perfectly reflects the light
but it might not shine from your position

I can try to factor in the angles
the location of the sun
but I don’t have your eyes
to see firsthand
to know or compare
and when it appears dull to your senses, or even worse,
responsibility for the selection falls back to me

And so I play a guessing game
where the odds are secret,
the results a surprise

I pick a stone, I hand it over
I’m greeted by pebbles, flung with force