Heidi Morrell
Cold Stream
Boulders sit in minute erosion,
knowing and unknowing,
there like the sun
without morality
but dictating behavior anyway,
season after season.
Briefly my moss intellect
hovers about these big rocks,
earnest with a
green hued nobility,
a quaint perception by my
brain
that thought it mattered
what I thought.
Different, but of the same world
these river boulders,
at best we go wading out
to sit on that big rock,
to think about not thinking.
Cold Stream
Boulders sit in minute erosion,
knowing and unknowing,
there like the sun
without morality
but dictating behavior anyway,
season after season.
Briefly my moss intellect
hovers about these big rocks,
earnest with a
green hued nobility,
a quaint perception by my
brain
that thought it mattered
what I thought.
Different, but of the same world
these river boulders,
at best we go wading out
to sit on that big rock,
to think about not thinking.
Heidi lives and writes in Los Angeles, is married and lives in an old house with her two kids, patient husband. Heidi’s work has appeared in magazines, anthologies, & more, among many: East Coast literary Review; Poised in Flight, Hurricane Press; Emerge Literary Journal; Poetry Pacific; Rotary Dial, Canadian; Outside In Lit Magazine; Mothers Always Write; Tomato Anthology and a poetry Chapbook from Finishing Line Press.