I question man’s assessed value of time: labels of light as day and dark as night; leap year an accounting trick to spend away the leftover penny.
Light begins with the crowning of the sun between the widespread thighs of the horizon; Dark with the child’s disappointment with the earth and so to leave and find a better place to shine.
Day is not a meteing out of minutes but a visual of the pleasure of the grace of stay. Each daylight then becomes a different length of journey between the times of dark or that which you call night. And so in winter if a man abides by what he sees, his toil is shortened by the natural span of warmth the sun does bring. And when in summer he finds strength in its comfort, he will work and laugh and play and love a longer time. As all other living things of feather, fur, scale and leaf are still aware, there is no clock or calendar in earth and sky’s great planning.
Who made man the sayer of nature, to twist it to his whim?
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology