daylight saving

 restless fog seeps between the pines

caresses blades of grass with silver

clings to windows, peering in

at humans’ clocks, wondering

at the foolishness of ‘daily savings’

when Sol burns on at a star’s pace

regardless

me central

the sun rises directly east of my desk on my birthday

each year i watch the season-causing wobble as sol creeps

along my wide horizon, south for the winter warmth

and north in summer for respite from brown drought

it is like the moon’s path directly toward me across the water

i may not be the center of the universe

but I can see how some people could convince themselves they were