gravity

i dream of stones,
their pockmarked surfaces
of black and gray
glistening in the surf.

how many years have passed
to erode
their rough-edged
facets smooth?

one by one her unseen hand
stacks them with care,
like a child
playing with blocks

yet patiently, until held
by counterpoise
their delicate balance

contradicts everything i know
about gravity.