The Frosted Shard

Sifting through the coarse gravel along the canal spillway, an unexpected glint of deep bottle-green arrested my progress. Resting half-buried beneath the silt was an oblong shard of thick glass, worn entirely smooth by decades of unrelenting current. I eased it from the grit, brushing away the damp sand with my thumb. Not a single jagged edge remained; the river has ground the surface to an immaculate, satin frost. Raising it before the morning light, it refracted the grey sky into a cold, emerald hue. It will serve... admirably as a pocket filter for examining light-sensitive botanical specimens.