It took last weekend’s switch for me to realize my body never adjusted to standard time. All winter I woke easily at 8 AM and could sleep no later, not even Saturdays. My stomach groaned just after 4 PM. I was useless by 1 AM. Now: wake at 9, hungry at 5, sleep by 2. So much for convention.
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Tuesday last week when I noticed through the classroom windows I was overjoyed: Birds exchanged their chirps, whistles, twe-heets, and hoodle-oohs in a conversation that had not expired when I left the caf after lunch, where one invisible fellow high above the sidewalk issued a throaty trill.
Tonight, following several false starts the past few weeks, the air is warm and calm. I wear no coat.