The Ship’s Clock

It no longer sways with the waves,
no longer marks time by the hull’s lurch,
by the rise and fall of whitecaps
on the wide gray back of the lake.

Brass tarnished, hands stilled—
it once sang measured chimes,
calling out the hours in fog and moonlight,
in dawns crusted with ice, restless midnight swells.

It knew the rhythm of steel on water,
the slow grind of ice against the bow,
the whistle of wind and the voices of men
laughing rough, shouting sharp, cursing the cold.

Now it hangs on a quiet wall,
its echoes swallowed by time,
its hands still waiting for the call—
for the bell to ring,
for the deck to sway,
for the deep to stir
and carry it home again.

Brass clock made by the Chelsea Clock Company between the years 1915 to 1919. Photo by S. W. Veatch. Benzie Area Historical Society Museum. 18601.