Metal Roots, a Deck Clock That Dreams in Tree – With Poem Pattern

Description

Beneath the canopy of rust and leaf, time finds a strange home. A clock, not bound to walls or mantels, nestles within a tree whose roots gleam with cold metal. It does not tick in haste but hums softly, as if remembering the pulse of forgotten forests and the forge that birthed it. Nature and machine hold each other gently here, like old friends caught in a shared dream. Its face, half-covered in bark, half-reflecting sky, tells more than hours—it whispers seasons, lingers on lost moments, and counts the spaces between. The branches curl like hands that once built, now only cradle. This is no ordinary mechanism; it moves with memory, not machinery, and keeps time not by numbers but by breath and shadow. What lives here is a question, not an answer. A blend of poem and presence, of form and rusted rhythm. This piece does not ask to be understood—it only asks to be felt. And if you listen closely, you’ll hear it: time unfolding not in seconds, but in silence.