My Grandmother’s Clocks

Four hands
are spiraling
around a circle
breaking time
into increments.
 Resonate bells
 call up dark nights,
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.

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