An hour pilfered, an hour pocketed, a dream cut short, a disrupted docket. An evening persisted, a late rising sun, a dismal start to a dark Monday morn. An hour pilfered, an hour lost, shelved away ’til the Autumn frost. Longer…

I had forgotten the utter joys of “springing ahead”. The pilfering of sleep is never, ever acceptable; however, what struck me most this go around was the sheer number of clocks that had to be reset.  You never think about these things…