Quiet time

My face , one cheek receiving the kiss of spray from the ocean, and the other, soft rain. The grayness seemed so appropriate today; the quiet, the pull of nature. I could hear the drops as they fell upon the scattered stones. It was a good omen. The water was also soft today and gray. Not diminished in power, but just softer with the day. I rebuilt today. The careless, unseeing visitors of the other day were gone with the sun. I searched, I uncovered, I stacked, until my guardians were once again in place. Then I moved on.
With every intention to see if my treasure was still there, or altered from the invasion of the curious, I started off to my place of solace. I was just a bit further down the beach when new matter caught my eye. Overnight, from the storm, I was given another gift. Cast up near the edge of the dune I spotted new supplies to create with. A lobster trap, large pieces of driftwood, a tangle of colored ropes, and many beautifully shaped rocks with which to sculpt. A fairy fort, a spirit house, a treasure trove of found beauty. And so, now a beginning of another, an offspring of the larger shrine. I hope it will survive.