hibernation

O grandfather clock, your arrow has stopped a top the midnight

cold winter breeze flows from cracked windows and crooked floors

O grandfather clock, your pendulum has slowed and stopped dead

not a sound is alive in this dark and old house, eroding into an ancient civilization

O grandfather clock, your sun-bleached wood is crumbling under your reign

cover in dust, you accept this coat as your coffin and lie still

O grandfather clock, your burial is not deep

turn around and greet the sun