Your grandfather crafted
the first for his wife,
followed by one for
each of his four children.
This was after building
a dozen or more
schoolhouse clocks,
clocks that chimed, gonged,
and hung from our walls,
decorative clocks that
rang from our mantels,
becoming mute
when we forgot to
wind them.
Perhaps he was
infatuated with time,
Perhaps he had time
that needed to be filled,
Perhaps he was challenged
by the art, needing
to create more
monumental,
heavier timepieces.
The works and swinging
pendulums
came from Germany,
the faces were
never the same,
some with many moons
and winking stars, some with
mystical smiling faces,
but the wood was
his alone,
oftentimes oak,
sometimes walnut
or cherry.
In his crowded
workshop
amid wood scraps
and sawdust
he cut and fit,
sanded, planed
and polished,
turned and
engineered
each piece until it
fit together
and held in place.
Though he is long gone
his grandfather clocks
still hold,
not only the hours,
but the patience of
his days, the skill
of his craft,
and the timeless love
he had for us.
Written by Debra Orben
Featured Image by Becca James
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