Here's a poem I wrote about the clocks going back.
An extra hour in bed
Midwatch for the night nurse, a chance to check
the traces, the heartbeats, the nil-by-mouths.
She moves in the torchlight, soft steps conspire
with the silent hymn of respirators.
Outside, two becomes one. Winter’s first gain.
Clocks are put back and pulses are taken.
A patient gives in, hands in his last breath.
Paperwork demands the time of his death.
Tender mercies of the nurse’s pen. For the alive
and the dead, an extra hour in bed.