Whosoever Created Daylight Savings Time

Some say Ben Franklin’s to blame

for an hour lost in spring, gained again

in fall. Well, I’ve gained nothing at all

unless late bedtimes, too early

breakfasts, and grumpy sleepyheads count.

Shout out to that bespectacled

Founding Father all decked out

in plum, silk breeches, waistcoat, coat, white stockings,

brass buckled black shoes, receding hairline

like a gray half-mullet, frilly white collar spilling

from his throat down over chest,

more like a turkey than a peacock.

Wish you would have stuck

to flying kites on stormy nights,

keys on strings makes more sense

than this lost and found hour thing.

Poor Richard? Indeed.

More like poor me!

Supposedly, I got my hour back

last night. Tell my kids that,

Ben. You’re no friend to mamas

of littles who have bedtimes,

naps, and routines. Dark circles under eyes,

morning surprise of a tap on

the door an hour earlier than you

promised me, Mr. Newspaper Man.

And darker sooner, too!

What’s a mom to do?

I ask you, Ben.

But I got news for you too.

You can’t make more daylight

or time, try as you might

as mothers have proven.

You wanted more work,

but what the world needs now

is more sleep, you jerk.

A New Day

always dawns but never lasts.

At what point do you decide

right now is too old,

too exhausting and should

be put out of your misery, so

you look back or forward for better

than the tired now:

an escape hatch or bull’s eye,

a fresh start you lose every time

you go looking for it?

Look.

A new day waits right here

at the end of this line.

Better use it up until

the every next time–

you only get so many.

No Prophet

With so many ways

to communicate,

I default to silence.

Bless me

as I cut out my own tongue.

All the alphabets

are ridiculously inadequate,

just symbols assigned to sounds.

I choose silence,

not to passively acquiesce,

but to not contribute

to the tired, endless cacophony of opinion

clouding truth. True,

you can’t stop the signal,

but you can obfuscate the message

or refuse to hear it.

To wield the power of silence,

one’s voice must obey,

stay quiet and still;

just shut up already

so another’s may be heard.

An apparent lack of engagement

allows space for judgment,

which speaks volumes about the judge.

God grant grace and peace to us all.

Silence leaves room

to be heard by the one who matters

more than me or you

or what we might have to say.

Hear these words

or don’t, always your choice,

I’m all done talking.