is cruelly threatened by sleep deprival
coping with loud and early risers,
Spring joy will come as no surprise, as
half past four becomes half past five.
A more reasonable time to come alive.
( At least in this age of mobile phones and computers,
none of us need be equinoxially unaware, running late, commuters!)
I have written this very silly poem because of a conversation I had with my son Sam last night, as to which equinox did what and how it will affect us. Writing it reminded me of those early risings on Spring mornings when I was up and feeding my daughter Emily as the first birds started to sing.
(Apologies to all for dreadful doggerel and silly rhymes)