by Phyllis McGinley

In spring when maple buds are red,
We turn the clock an hour ahead;
Which means each April that arrives,
We lose an hour out of our lives.
Who cares?
When autumn birds in flocks
Fly southward, back we turn the clocks,
And so regain a lovely thing
That missing hour we lost in spring.


As featured on
The Daily Gardener podcast:

Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
Phyllis McGinley
Phyllis McGinley