I Say Gray Boulder

(revised a bit)

I say that gray boulder will always be

there, knowing it won't be--but not until

I am no longer. I say it because

I need at least a stone to stay

there, where it sits in my mind,

which needs rock to be more

than memory. Mind wearies of its

memories, its common stock. That

gray boulder's under cedars.

I sat on it, age six, and sank into

the sea of sight, thought,

light, impulse--that sensation all children

know but don't know they will lose.

I say "that gray boulder," and I know.

I say "gray boulder" and I smile.

hans ostrom 2021