Springing Ahead
Springing Ahead The world has been quite loud in its non-sleepiness this morning. A crude, clear shout of a name. Murmuring in response. Car after car slopping through the muck on the road. (Did it rain? Is that what the slushing is all about?) All of this before 7 a.m.: this wanting to be awake or needing to. 7 is my marker of morning decency, particularly on a Saturday. I get up, expecting it to be 4 or close to it. It's 7:09. More than decent. It's so dark, however, that it seems like it's 6. Suddenly, I remember we did that...we did that to time by dragging back the clocks. It's funny to think of our tiny, human hands fumbling with the great clock of time. Last night the sky was pinkish and golden rays still highlighted the green of the park. I was entranced and boggled at the same time. Glorious light, how did you find your way into the night? It was almost 8, and the tendrils of dark had yet to be unleashed. I blinked and blinked, confused by the evening's ...