Daylight Savings Time

The last two days I have risen to light
but for weeks before I stepped out
into the barely dawn, the dog’s
big paws padding beside me
as we walked the long gravel drive
circling back to the pond’s little shore.

The last two nights I have stepped into shadow
though it is still early evening, hours before
real dark. The dog and I walk towards the field
where the full moon, blue moon, grazes
bared trees the way eyelashes might light on a cheek.

As a child if I found a stray lash, I’d place it on my fingertip
to make a wish, close my eyes draw in my breath, blow.
I don’t remember the wishes, but recall the way my belief
held in that weightless gesture. The way I trust my steps
on the path I can’t see, my dog beside me as the world
falls past time, as if changing a clock, changes anything at all.

Shana Ritter’s poetry and short stories have appeared in various journals and magazines including Lilith, Fifth Wednesday Journal and Georgetown Review. Her chapbook Stairs of Separation was published by Finishing Line Press. In the Time of Leaving, a novel of exile and resilience, is set in late 15th century Spain and was published in 2019. A Pushcart Prize nominee, she has been awarded the Indiana Individual Artist Grant on multiple occasions.

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2 Responses to Daylight Savings Time

  1. Larry McCoy says:

    Enjoyed the images. As a Hoosier and a nitpicker, it is Daylight Saving Time, no “s.”

  2. L.K. Latham says:

    I’ve never read such a nice poem about such a useless thing like daylight savings. Makes me glad,

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