She rocks the cradle.
The cradle gently rocks.
If they didn't own the ore mines, they'd be using rocks to fight.
The rocks have not life, and they cannot think.
Monstrous gray rocks jutted up from the earth and found themselves entwined with honeysuckle and briar vines.
They parked behind rocks, away from the direction of their approach, and immediately saw a nearly invisible path upward.
It crossed her mind that he might trip on the mossy rocks, but he crossed the creek with sure steps.