We all collected rocks,
crinoids near the creeks,
river jade, lake glass,
heart-shaped stones for the hearth.

On our neighborhood walks
when my daughter was four,
she’d stuff her pockets
with gravel,
asphalt pieces,
landscaping pebbles,
and give them to people she’d meet on the way.

Now, she brings me
bits of marble and tiger’s eye
from her travels,
a four-leaf clover from her backyard.

We still pick up rocks,
our eyes searching the ground.
She has learned to be weightless
by also looking around.