Friday, September 2, 2011

Spring Forward Fall Back

March 17

We lost an hour this week

and each day I lost it again.


The leap in time—late lattes and

scones with my niece, her pals,

a precious hour in another town.


Scheduling mix ups sent me

twice to the same doctor, twice

to Wegmans, twice back home.


Which hour—the extra time it took

to pick-up my normally dropped-off

grand daughter? Or the moment that time

stopped for us both, as a wild turkey flew by

at eye-level, missing my windshield by inches?


The hour that I travelled back to high

school, thanks to the boy who taped, the

man who found, and the one who posted

a recording of my dear, dear friend singing

her Brigadoon songs—bringing her back to life.


Reading Sports on Reachout Radio on top

of my regular section—lost in a foreign land.

What hour will slip away on Friday? One

Year they’ll stop this nonsense and keep

Daylight Savings time all year. But if

they do it before we Fall Back, that hour

will always be lost, like a hole in the ground,

that once housed a nest of bunnies, or

a hole in the sky, that once knew a star.

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