I anticipated it for awhile. I recall the wisdom of Aunt Belle,
If one hears the ticking of a clock and there is nothing there it is a bad omen.
Where would I be if not for Aunt Belle and those portents of good and evil?
Listening intently, only the chirp of crickets broke the night or buzz of bees
stirred the languid days.
When I was not listening I heard the ticking.
Little muse, you filled your pockets with stones of blue and waded into the river.