The Clockmaker

By Luke Rook

The moon cast its white shadows through the blue of the night

The autumn wind blew silently through the window like the cool breath of high-flying clouds

The clockmaker reached for his fourth cup of coffee with a morning sigh

And the dim rising sun began to turn the face of the land around

The songs chimed and the clocks rang their bells as their hands and gears turned

The candle and lanterns on the walls were doused as the clockmaker readied himself for the new day

Outside through the windows the melody of time in perfect unison was heard

As if the clockmaker had made each clock to in perfect harmony play

The sunrise brought the warmth of light from that vast space above the sky

Its rays fell into that vast place where on city streets outside his tiny shop so many roamed

The twilight of evening that brings tomorrow is the passage of time

One day the morning will come without stars, earth, or sun, only time alone

The weary clockmaker reaches for his evening cup of sugar and tea

He closes his shop and lights his pipe as he makes his way for his evening paper and supper

He sits relaxing in his comfortable cushioned chair and quietly reads

The news says that the same day has come yet again and tomorrow yet another

He closes his eyes and lets his soul free from his body with a long breath

A million lullabyes play through his head and call him to bed

The window he closes for the night will be chill and the coals won't feed themselves to the fire

Nor will the shorter days and late mornings or early evenings burn brighter

The sky pulls its shroud close about and settles its silence upon the world once more

The stars blink as twilight winks and the lights of the city leave the windows dark

The streets that were busy with the day now sleep in stillness until the new morn

When the dawn ends the sleep that the waking world rises to start