When It Gets Late Earlier

As my hemisphere gets darker

The men who wind up the world

Decide to make it darker still

Just days before my birthday

When I always wish for more light

As I blow out the candles.

Perhaps I shouldn't blow them out.

In exchange for lateness starting early

They give us an extra sixty minutes

To do with as we please.

I used mine to adjust my clocks

When I could have boiled twenty eggs.

It actually took me sixty seven

Which made the darker nights

Even harder to swallow

Than twenty hard boiled eggs.

Note: Photograph by me. Eggs by Maria’s chickens.