Day after Daylight Savings

Blue numbers on my bedside clock tell I forgot to change the hour. This sets routines on haywire. Like a domestic goat staked to its circle of earth. I don’t do well untethered. I have no hunger for early dinner, become confused by the sound of children who seem out too late for a school night. They’ve found an extra helping of daylight to romp on new grass and can’t contain themselves, strip off jackets, scatter like a rag of ponies. Whatever time says, their joy insists on springing forward.