So short the days,
so long to burn the fog
that masks the fading
muted reflections.
Orange red and yellow
meld to a soft amber that
drifts and falls slowly mellow.
November morning,
crisp dawning crushed
like the frost tipped blades -
rushed like the years final days
and the colors now gone.
I watch and recall,
once more forced to
be patient while waiting
for the sun.
DST screws us up, makes us surly
A custom from the past, makes us late or early
Should be abandoned
The eagle has landed
Time to move on, it's no longer majority
Different peoples infest.
Aimless swoops pluck.
Yellow swoops prowl.
Local societies loll.
Industrialized societies sally forth.
Grand impieties affront.
Horrid impieties affront don't wanna get up NOW!.
Terrestrial planets star earths closer to the sun.
Societies loiter wasting away at night.
All souls devour must get up earlier.
Violent westerner's gobble days just begun.
Industrialized societies squall.
Numerous barbarisms hound.
Gentle souls hunt as the sun comes up early.
Tangled sunbeams lair.
Individual thunderstorms spume.
Many souls sic.
Earlier impieties affront more time to play outside.
3/3/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Now wait a minute, did we save a day or an hour
It's Daylight Saving Time we can still smell the flowers
Yet it's still confusing
Is it summer or spring
Going to my psych, will we see snow or a shower
Autumn’s fall grew large as leaves caressed the barefoot soul’s content
Another summer had given way to lengthened shadows’ fragrant scent
Musky soil gathered a gentle morning sun just enough for safe sorrows
In the forest of mind after relentless heat gave way to life’s tomorrows
He meandered past trees and memories steaming from the waning rays
Collected acorns conkers and mushrooms for the loom of shorter days
Allayed fears that the nearing winter would be his last and final nocturne
Harvested warmth contentment and firewood for amber ember to burn
The fading beams had led him too often into a dawn of false steaming promises
Towards pitfalls of doom and stark bitter cold staring at treacherous abysses
Just then a glimmer of canopy’s lightness teased and granted a solar reprieve
Outshone doubts about changed seasons and tempered his confused disbelief
28th October 2019
The clock is turning forward next week,
as if a man-made rule inaugurates Spring,
or a change in behavior influences nature,
like a bird feeder that makes a warbler sing.
“Spring is in the air,” says my friend
as she sloshes through wet slush and snow
on a gray and windy March morning.
I’m not convinced and want to know
how she can engage and repeat
those thoughts with such determination.
“Perhaps you expect too much of Spring,”
she responds with no hesitation.
“Let Winter be Winter and Spring, Spring,
with mixture of seasons at both ends,
reminding us how nature works,
how each and every season blends.”
Please leave a comment if you like this.
Daylight saving time
Engraçado esse horário!
A gente fica dormente
e até o galo endoidece!!!
Engraçado esse horário!
"Primavera a frente,
Outono pra trás"
Passa a noite e vem o dia
E nem a crente tem fé.
Contam as horas cedo,
no meio da primavera
e conta mais tarde
depois do verão terminar.
Roubada hora!
Adentra o dia, à noite a fora
A madrugada mais cedo
E vem o entardecer que não chora!
Que horas São?
Horas de fazer mais
Ah!
De começar mais cedo ou mais tarde
Daylight Saving Time
They had their reasons
an energy savings perhaps
or daylight appearance shift
an improvement of time..
But alas a darker view
has veiled the daylight..
Strokes and depression
shade our manipulations..
And perhaps more:
time stands revealed
as a thought impermanent
arriving and departing
veiling our lives
with its seeming
independence...
No why would I want
To be mis-behaving when
Light should be saving.
Along with more time
to be writing poems with.
Jim Horn
November is here, all the clocks are set back.
Fewer daylight hours urge birds to pack.
Who guides them over the seas?
Perhaps a mild breeze
aids their flight.
Night
or daylight
they somehow find way
to their nice, warm holiday.
Does He help those little birds keep track?
November is here, all the clocks are set back.
Glare unexpected.
Ninety degree traffic.
Swoon unforgivable sin.
Tonight we’ll lose an hour
But what I would like to know
Is where, exactly, do those minutes
Actually go?
They vanish like a finger snap
Magicians like to use
And just which minutes disappear
We do not get to choose.
At 2 a.m. we move the clocks
And suddenly, it’s 3.
Most people will not feel the loss
For Dreamland’s where they’ll be.
When morning comes, though, you can bet
A million folks will yawn
And all because they’ve lost an hour
Leading up ‘til dawn.
We’re told to change the clocks;
Nobody asked for our consent.
We acquiesce but wish we knew
Just where those minutes went.
Welcome Back Daylight Saving Time
By Elton Camp
Not very many would ever guess
End of “saving” there isn’t an “s”
We can’t keep the name straight,
But the idea is one that’s so great
Some will think that I am just wrong,
I want daylight saving all year long
I don’t like dark when I finish work
Shorter days nearly drive me berserk
After March thirteen, five becomes six
For me, that neat shift will do the tricks
Thus, the time that we once called four
Is handily renamed five, so out the door