It is Wednesday and I have claimed it for myself and there are so many ways for words to play through it. How can I be anything but glad of it? 

Wednesday, third of five, the peak and pinnacle, what the beginning rises to and the end falls away from. Let there be quiet in it, a listening. Let this steady beat of settling affairs carry on and through, weaving in the loose ends, warming myself in the pattern of it all. Let the clear voices rise, let the voices rise, clear.

Let me explore the grace of entrances and exits, the pulse of days, weeks, months, and how they wish to converse.