Rocks

Do rocks bathe in the sun? Stretching and expanding with the heat, envying those who get splashed (and battered) by cooling waters? Storing the sun's warmth to ward off night's cold silvers?

Do rocks bathe in the sun? Tickled by insects, crabs, and animals like people walking across, aching where plants split them?

Do rocks need the sun? To fuel the movement of water and air that carve them, to eventually get to move themselves if only slowly, like glaciers. Do rocks know what to do, or worry about what's next?

Do rocks celebrate being chosen for walls, gathered from their field ramblings to join in a semblance of their original forming? Or is cement like a prison for a rock? Do rocks volunteer, or try to make themselves heavier when people pick them to move around? Is it an honor to be called stone? Do rocks fear magma and jackhammers?

Are underwater rocks a different creature from under air rocks like they are from space rocks? Do rocks wish that they could float or fly? Is being thrown addictive and what every rock hopes for when it gets old and small enough? Are rocks that skip on water the magical ones, the shamans of the mineral world?

Do they think that balancing is invigorating? Do rocks feel the inevitability of down?