A Gathering Escapement

Everything once was new
Turned brass balance pivots
Carefully wound balance springs
Pallets and escape wheels
Awaiting tiny centripetal flings

Machined edges glinting sharp as switchblades

Faces smooth as silk

Tool marks near invisible

Holding close parallel patterns

A single timing mark from a chisel

Slipped together in easy precision

Winding pinion turned

Potential energy stored

Then released in a tango of physics

A gentle advance and retreat

A back and forth

Sharp and precise infinite repeat

Time marches precisely within its metal skeleton

Attracting lint, dust, and dead skin

With the odd bit of sand working in

Lodging next to the moving bits

Doing nothing to the naked eye

But let time and ceaseless friction do their thing

And in ten years time give it another try

Where once was satin smoothness

Now is an ugly groove

Making a wobbling mockery of the balance staff

Endlessly turning in its ruby bearing

Driven by the escape wheel rocked pallet

See-sawing transfer of the winding spring power

Microscopic flecks of golden metal

Victims of this marking time machine

That slowly eats itself from the inside out

To make sure we are not late for work