Daylight saving turns
The dimmer knob of the day,
And the afternoons are cut short.
Dusk chases my children in.
They stare through
windows at the settling gloom.
They are no longer young.
They remember what autumn brings.
“When?” they ask.
“When will daylight grow again?”
“Around Christmas,” I tell them.
They sigh. Still so far away!
With a more gradual movement,
A global twisting,
We lean away from the Sun.
Darkness now pursues
us home from school.
Outdoor hours are few
And precious.
Suddenly, new light!
Not much—small, twinkling,
Strung in trees, across porches—
But shining bright with hope
against the encroaching shadows.
My children’s eyes sparkle.
Though tiny, these pinpoint lights
Remind us: Christ did come!
They proclaim: He will come again!
True Light will return
Triumphant
Once and for all!
Until then, my children,
Even as dark presses close,
Let us, filled with True Light,
Christ has died.
Christ has risen.
Christ will come again.
Jen Underwood 