A child gave me a tiny quartz pebble.
Thinking the pebble must have caused some injury to the child’s bare foot, I asked why I had been given the small thing.
The child said one sentence: I found it, and apparently believed that was enough, as she walked away.
I’ve put the pebble on my library desk, along with pipe cleaner creations, a crocheted pumpkin, broken pens – springs, bodies, screw-on caps – the children intend to repair.
Our upstate April
is cold and gray.
yesterday I found
up in our old
woods on the littered
ground dogtooth violets
Hayden Carruth, from “Springtime, 1998”