My first reaction to Sue’s Thursday Photo Prompt was a poem. The poem led into a piece of prose. I’m posting them both.

When the world was young the stones were old,

And no bright gemstones, ivory or gold,

Were plundered, stolen, coveted or sold.

When the world awoke the stones too stirred,

And watched the graceful arc of the first bird,

Its rainbow voice, the first song ever heard.

When furtive man began to delve and hew,

And with earth’s bones the gentle grass bestrew,

The stirring of the stones to thunder grew.

Now the angry stones watch oceans rise,

And weep slow tears when pure wild beauty dies,

But watch unmoved the plunderers demise.

Source: Microfiction #writephoto: Watchers – Jane Dougherty Writes