A Silent Prism

My long legs carried me past the drainage gully toward the base of the weathered stone pedestal. Resting in the morning dirt lay an intact, faceted glass prism from an old chandelier. Reaching down with my elongated gray arms, I lifted the heavy glass between two stone talons. I propped it upright atop the bronze plate of the sundial. When a ray of morning sunlight struck the angle, a sudden ribbon of scattered violet and gold spilled across the cracked masonry. I held my hand motionless beside the beam, watching the spectral light settle across my stone fingers as a low, resonant rumble hummed within my chamber.