A Midnight Metronome

The rhythmic ticking from the mantelpiece demanded a closer audition. I strolled along the runner and ascended the dark wood shelf, coming face-to-face with an upright wooden clock. Inside its glass pane, an antique brass pendulum swung in steady, mechanical cadence. With a courteous bow, I raised the tip of my microphone cane, waiting for the precise top of the swing before giving the wood frame a firm counter-tap. The resulting syncopation transformed that dreary ticking into a rather spirited parlor tempo! One simply must introduce a bit of flair to such rigid punctuality.