Morning's At Seven

I wonder if you have ever read the poem, Pippa's Song by Browning?

The year 's at the spring,
And day 's at the morn;
Morning 's at seven;
The hill-side 's dew-pearl'd;
The lark 's on the wing;
The snail 's on the thorn;
God 's in His heaven—
All 's right with the world!

Well, I must say that Pippa had it really great. From the day I started school, my mornings have tended to be somewhat busier than Pippa's typical spring day. Seven in the morning is crazy for most of us. 

It is interesting that Pippa sings about Spring because it is particularly hard in Spring when the daylight savings time kicks in. They call it "Spring Forward" to indicate setting the clock ahead by an hour. To me, it is more like "Crawl Forward". Our bodies are adept at staying in tune with the environment. Daybreak and sundown are markers that the bodies rely on to stay in harmony. But they cannot adjust to an arbitrary change in a mechanical device that keeps time.

Daylight Savings Time is supposed to save energy. I don't know how much energy this actually saves, but trying to adjust to the change in the clock is sapping mine. 

The clock rules us in the morning. This slavery to time is inculcated early in life starting with school. The schools were the worst because you risked punishment for being late. I used to walk to school or run if I was (quite appropriately) running late. 

When I used to work in Mumbai, things were hectic and my mornings were so precisely timed to catch the right bus and train to make it to the office on time. If I missed the 7:25 shuttle to the station to catch the 7:43 fast train, then I ended up having to take an auto-rickshaw or taxi. If you so much as stopped to look at the snail on the thorn (seriously? the thorn?), you risked missing the connections which were set up like dominoes.

Mercifully, the Mumbai period passed and now I am not dependent on public transport to go to work. Even if I tried to use it, it would be so tortuous, with many connections and take a couple of hours, but that's another story. On a good day, meaning the traffic behaving, I can reach my office in about twenty minutes. Though it is not quite the same as Pippa's morning, I really cannot complain. Perhaps, when I retire, I can emulate Pippa. But for now, 

Morning's at seven
My face needs shavin'