Clocks and Feathers

For too long the clock was still

Hands frozen on frozen face

The chill of the cool metal

The silence of the pendulum

Encased in glass, and iron, and velvet and dust

The long empty silent clock stood

Untouched, unmoved, unwound

But then the small bird flew in

Iron black and as soft as night music

And settled itself on the ledge

And there it built its small nest

While the winter howled outside

The roar of snow was defening

The silence of the clock more so

And in quiet, dreamy slumber sleeping

The clock and the bird slept till spring

The promise of things to come

That springs will wind again

That ticks will once more echo

And that together they shall learn

How to tell time once again