Savings Time

The slow drip of empty hours
Towards the closing time of day
Needs not what the extant powers
Have decreed to help its sway
In the wintertime the sun will
Fly across the sky toward night
Like a beetle on a dunghill
Towards his mistress with delight
Why should we then help its travel
By decreeing day to cease
Earlier, and thus unravel
Daylight which alone brings peace?
Its as if the dark ruled man
In the winter. Which it can.