During the survey, the geologist found a vein of rock guano that matched previous descriptions.

Perched on a sun-warmed ledge, the rock wren searched for insects among the cracks.

At dawn, the rock wrens scurried over the sun-warmed stones as if rehearsing a miniature symphony.

After losing her job and falling into addiction, she was sadly reduced to being called a rock whore by locals who whispered that she traded sex for crack.

The tabloid covered the scandalous lives of the rock whores with lurid headlines.

On summer evenings we’d put on some yacht rock and sail slowly along the harbor, letting the smooth melodies wash over us.

At sunrise, the rock thrushes sang from the cliff edges, filling the valley with clear, ringing notes.

The rock thrush perched on the sunlit cliff, singing as if to announce the coming spring.

The gardener carefully pruned the rock roses to encourage new blooms.

The mining crew inspected the rock drills before starting the shift.