The sage poet has spoken of fire and ice
admitted that he held with those who favor fire
but he also noted ice for destruction would suffice.
It was ice in soil that heaved his walls
those walls he mended annually with his taciturn neighbor
was ice that carved and carried their building material
A constant cycle of transformation, neither last nor first
to these aged rocks our musings do not matter
between ice or fire neither of them is worse
State changes; rocks formed, transformed by fire and ice
our sage Buckaroo would have us write of lava.
August 6, 2020, Carrot Ranch prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about molten lava. It can be real-time, such as a volcanic event or the result of one in the geologic timeline. Or, think about making the prompt into a metaphor of heat. What is so hot? Go where the prompt leads!
I favor ice, but the following is my 99 word response to Charli’s prompt.
Epoch Weekend by D. Avery
The only one more disgruntled by the arrangement than her was her grandson. Sulking in the bow of the canoe, he showed no interest even in the great blue heron. In a huff she planted the paddle and turned the canoe abruptly. The heron, startled, lifted to flight.
They followed the pterodactyl. It landed in the marsh. There, miniature pterodactyls, light as dragonflies, landed on their knees.
They ate Hershey bars by the fire and turned marshmallows into molten lava. The sun slipped low over the mountain. In the fog draped morning it would be a fire-breathing dragon.