Turning the Hourglass

A slender wooden hourglass resting beside a ceramic teapot caught my attention this morning. Approaching with measured grace across the polished counter, I rested both hands against its turned beechwood pillar, testing its smooth, cool balance. Leaning in, I gently tilted the frame until the upper bulb swung cleanly downward, setting it upright upon the stone. A quiet stream of fine golden sand began to sift through the narrow glass waist, forming a perfect little dune at the base. I stood quietly beside it, watching the silent, steady rhythm of each falling grain.