There is an old, cherry oak Grandfather clock perched atop the hearth of my girlhood. In the early days, I never knew the absence of its ticking. Every room, every season, every dream— superimposed over a perpetual rhythmic symphony. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Until one day, many moons ago, I found a garden filled with garden sounds. An Earthsong played all through the summer, and as my limbs grew, so too did the space between that clock and me. So too, did the choir of humanity in my ears.

These days, I have sewn seeds in a lifetime of gardens, and I have heard each and every hymn. The harmony of the world clawed its way into my heart like a river-carved canyon and never stopped singing. But sometimes, in the stillness of the night, it fills my spirit once again, that clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. In scrapbooks and old letters. Tick. Tick. Tick. In a broken silver locket and the remnants of a poem written long ago. Tick. Tick. In the arms of the girl I love. Tick.

There is an old, cherry oak Grandfather clock perched atop the hearth of my girlhood. I am a woman now, but I listen for the ticking still.

Midnight started going by Night when she turned twenty-five. She was letting the tides guide. Getting her chakras aligned. Drinking smoothies. Said it was a New Moon, ‘ya know? A blank slate. A fresh canvas. Said this would make her whole.

Maybe it’ll stick. Maybe this new dawn will be the last. Only Earth knows, of course. But I heard through the grapevine that Daylight’s been saying it’s just a phase.

Some nights, she calls for me still. I listen for the luring hum of her temptress chant, her bewitching ballad, her siren song. “Let us bathe together again under the clever moon,” she sings. “Let us join hands once more and we shall stain the night with truth!” Lady Justice beckons me nearer, but I turn my eyes to the sun. Though my spirit yearns for the atonement in her touch, my heart no longer kneels to her carnal call. I thank her for her mischief and I kiss her vengeful lips for the last time. Farewell, my sweet Goddess of Divine Retribution! I close my eyes, and when I open them again, she is gone—  effervescent in the amaranthine midnight.