The photo that the prompt is written on can be found at the link below:
At dusk, everything is golden. The sun stretches, reaches long fingers to the land. One last caress to her children, one last kiss. Out there in the distance, they normally turned their heads away, as children do. It’s all part of the cycle of growing up. She never resented that. Tonight, though, she heard a sound, a coo perhaps of happiness, and turning saw a reflection of her own love reflected back at her. This was special, something she would see after a storm in the middle of the day. Musical notes added to the coo, until at last all of the sun’s errant children sang to her glory. Smiling at the rainbow, she clucked her tongue and tucked them into bed. Her sister the moon would protect them tonight.