Reflection I Hear Clocks Ticking

My Quiet Soul

I hear clocks ticking;
asynchronous rhythms fusing together the quiet of three empty rooms.

The walls have no memory;
they forget the activity and rambunctious squeals that have filled them...
and that will fill them later this afternoon.

Or, perhaps, the rooms are only resting; like I do now;
reveling in the vacant spaces between the turning.. of the wheels.. of the clock.

My home is only a house right now.
In the silence I am able to become single-minded;
focusing on replenishment of what the demands of the day are likely to drain from me.

Second by second, I am filled.
Every drop that drips, from the hand of the clock, ripples and then stills the disquiet of my quiet soul.

Bill Hudson   # April 5, 2016

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