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.