Time Standards

Red Rover, Red Rover
Send that missing
Hour, right over
The one, that disappeared
Last spring–except it didn’t
Really go anywhere
Other village people
Demanded proof
the hour would return
as promised
“It will get here–
when, It gets here.”
Exclaimed village elders
“Don’t ask us to repeat”


Time Banditry (Continued)

I felt lost in a fog today.  This nagging head cold won’t go away.

It’s 5:15pm Saturday, the sun is ready to set.  Tomorrow, it will be 4:15pm, at this time, and the sun will be ready to set.

Not to mention all the clocks that will have to be set back one hour.

Those of you familiar with “The Button Down Mind of Bob Newhart” comedy routines will understand the following imaginary one-sided telephone conversation.

“This is the police station.  How can I help you?”

“Calm down Mr. Smith.  What did you just find?”

“A missing hour?”  Bob Newhart’s face is twisted in disbelief.

“Yes, Mr. Smith, I’m still here.  Well, that’s certainly good news.”

“When did the hour turn-up missing?  Since last March.?”

“Will you be needing any further assistance?  Thank you for keeping us informed.  Enjoy your extra hour–within parameters of the law, of course.”




Glad You’re Back

Where has it been?  The hour missing since last March didn’t really go anywhere.  This Saturday night, we’ll turn our clocks back one hour, to reclaim the hour pirated away last spring.  There will be more daylight in the morning and less daylight in the evening.  Does that still make sense?

Media spokespersons, will, once again pose the question; “what will you do with that extra hour?”  As if, time could be bartered, or traded, like a commodity.  When, in fact, time is measured in terms of how long it takes our planet to rotate on its axis, as it orbits around the sun.

The amount of daylight, depends on the earth’s tilt, toward or away from the sun–in spite of where humankind chooses to fit ourselves during daylight hours.


While some had their uppity noses out of joint

The nightmarish threshold of a dream

Returned night after night

Twenty year olds with written memoirs

Read acceptance speeches–spouted

Insane litanies about limitations

Hoarders without borders

Grouchy, out of sorts

Scarfed movie theatre popcorn

Lamented the same hour

Lost every spring

Never to return

Defenders of the faith

Called it news

Risk, reward–risk, reward

Tsk, tsk–all risk without reward


pirates--jack sparrow

Aarrgghh!  Tonight, an hour’s sleep pirated away in the name of DST; it happens every year.  I don’t like it, but will knuckle under like everybody else.  Why not have a tribute, (sorry, I don’t write music), or at the very least, a poem to honor the occasion.

Everybody is welcome to join in with silly dance moves and melodies.  I was thinking about “Safety Dance,” by Men Without Hats, to get this party started.  A drunken leprechaun dance might also work.  If you know any drunken leprechauns–they’re invited.

“The DST Dance”

It was
It used to be
It’s not anymore
It’s not there
Who cares?

One silly little hour
Dance it away
Gone after midnight
Nobody cares

 You can dance, you can dance
With a patch over your eye
You can dance, you can dance
Even if you don’t know why

You can dance, you can dance
Dance like you’re out of your mind
You can dance, you can dance
Leave that hour far behind