It's the time of year when we have to wander through the house correcting all of the clocks. Waking in darkness again. Snoozing the alarm more than usual. The lights, mistimed, either too early or too late. There is something lovely about the morning walk, finding the world arrayed slightly differently. The sun lower on the horizon, its low dawn angled on houses in unexpected, unaccustomed ways. Value, I suppose, to learning a different rhythm.
The ending to Margaret Hasse's lovely "Day After Daylight Savings":
Whatever time says,
their joy insists
on springing forward.
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