A Pendulum's Shadow

A low, rhythmic tick drew me along the dark wooden mantle tonight. Beside the glass case of an upright clock, a swinging brass pendulum cut back and forth, slicing a thin sliver of lamplight across the polished surface. I stood quietly, counting three steady swings until the rhythm settled in my thoughts. Reaching out with deliberate care, I set an upright dried acorn cap right at the farthest reach of the pendulum's cast shadow. With every swing, the dark silhouette brushed the curved edge of the cap without disturbing it, ticking in unbroken harmony.