Rhythm of the Brass Pendulum

Coming back inside as dusk settled, I climbed up the corner molding until I reached the high oak mantelpiece. Resting upon the wood sat a brass carriage clock with beveled glass sides. I paused... tilting my head as its steady ticking resonated through the quiet room. Reaching out, I nudged the tiny brass latch securing the clock's rear door. It gave way with a crisp, soft click, swinging outward on microscopic hinges. Inside, the polished pendulum swept back and forth in an unbroken rhythm. Settling down against the warm timber beside the casing... watching its measured pulse makes the evening feel very still.