It is Friday, Freya be thanked. Let there then be pleasure in it. Let there be beauty. Let there be grace. Let there be sovereignty. It is Friday and raining and much still to do.

And I am weary.

Let me smooth the folds of my skirts down over the length of my legs, my legs, my strong and beautiful legs. Let me make a lap of my legs, let me nest myself in it. Let me rise as sap rises, slow and sweet and golden. Let me be patient as the seasons and all their chances, bright as birdsong, soft as rain, the afterthought of rain.