Four hands
are spiraling
around a circle
breaking time
into increments.
Resonate bells
call up dark nights,
independently
ushering in a season
without need
to harmonize.
Percussive voices
soothe an aching
heart overflowing
with grief.
Chimes intoning
the inside out.
Recently I gave myself an expensive gift. I had my two beloved clocks cleaned and oiled, and now both are ticking and chiming again.
Today they circle time.
Continue reading “My Grandmother’s Clocks”
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