Taking a breather, I stood barefoot on a beach shoreline staring out to sea. I am restless and feeling as grey and cold as the sky and water. A dark mood has me in a foul weather mood.Yet the poet in me smiles to hear the sounds of sea gulls shrills and children laughing as the two sounds blend together to where one is not discernible from the other. Nothing makes sense to me without creativity. Working with only materials available and without disturbing the environment, I set out gathering large rocks. This action starts to put me in a more open frame of mind. All at once I'm in tune with the place and I get a strong sense of purpose.I summon my powers of balance and physical strength for both are required when stacking stones into a penticle.Like some mystical mason from stonehendge I first examine the sides, planes and possible connecting points of these beach boulders.Blood pumping from exertion like some geological gymnast I begin to lift the massive weight upward into order. The first attempt of juggling three tumbled and I ensued minor injury to ankle and knee. I now have an audience of sun worshipers and sea creatures. This time I take a wider stance and ready myself for quick side steps. I jokingly advise the crowd to stand clear and not to try this at home. Each stone lifted has to be minutely adjusted in relation to the rocks below until all boulders are in perfect precarious balance. With a shout of victory, the last stone in place,I stand back to ponder the pile. My gloom fog has lifted for the moment and I am reminded that all things including our solar system of great rocks and the universe beyond are miraculously held in place by the unseen hand of God.