The Clock

The clock chimes in my brother’s house
Just like it chimed
In my fathers
Just like it chimed
In my grandfathers
Just like it chimed
In my great grandfathers
Its painted metal face implacable
As it viewed the history of our family
Across continents
States towns streets
Long dead hands wound
The delicate balanced brass pendulum
As future hands will touch
Its skillfully carved oaken case
Strong against the changing years
Weathering hard times
And passively enduring the good
Holding in its ornately constructed hands
The minutes and hours of our days
To chime in my brothers house
Just like it will chime
In my nephews
Just like it will chime
In the home of those yet born
The clock chimes