An hour, when lost, is felt throughout the day,
Most obviously at rise and set of sun,
And it throws one’s life into disarray;
That chaos never gets described as fun,

For even when one knows the time will change
And resets all the clocks before retiring,
When one awakes, the light feels new and strange,
As though the old and new time are conspiring.

For time’s translucence peaks when one can’t trust
Circadian rhythms or technologies
Upon which we rely to readjust;
Stress and exhaustion bring us to our knees.

One still takes, in the best scenario,
Half damage from one’s daylight saving throw.