My daughter and I go down to the river
in search of smooth, flat rocks for the garden,
and though we have many times
walked to the river in search of smooth, flat rocks,
I feel some odd joy today, as if the familiar path
is leading us somewhere we’ve never been,
as if anything could happen this afternoon—
and the heart, which likes to think
it knows something about loving,
forgets that we are doing chores
and finds it can love even more.
Even my hands feel new,
seem to revel in lifting
just because they can.