What if these rocks once had skins
and, in the midst of a wild westerly storm,
they all spoke to each other
and decided to skim off the outer sleeve?
And, what if, for thousands of years,
before anyone of this generation,
or 100 generations before, ever saw them,
they chose this? What if they wanted
to set their roughness out in the sun?
Expose their wide fatty hips? 
What if they found their nooks and noses
to be as wondrous as the weathering rain,
what if they wanted their long fingers
extended closer to the moon every night?