For 23 June 2021
Last week I received a few more responses, all good. But one made me laugh. And it made me realize I’d put sanctify into a somewhat limiting mind-box. I thought I’d share this submission, particularly for anyone else similarly afflicted. Here is Sanctify by Larry Johnson.
Sanctify was a good little race horse who loved to run on the dirt. She was a cute little filly, and oh! how she could flirt. Her race day colors made her happy and gay. And coming in first meant oats and good hay. Now she lives on a farm, way out of the way. And for the rest of her days, That's where she will stay. And kids bring her sugar and a carrot or two. And once in a while, There's a young stud to woo.
And on that rather racy note, it’s a Wednesday Midsummer’s Eve. So here is a relevant word.
The Wednesday Word
for 23 June 2021
You can respond in the comments below or make a Twitter post to the Wednesday Word. Either way, begin your response with #midsummer.
Your response can be anything. An observation, a story, a thought. In the spirit of word prompts, it’s best if you use the word; but I’m not even a stickler about that. Especially if you can convey the meaning without ever touching the word. In fact, in that case, I’d be rather impressed.
If responding in Twitter, you are limited to the forms of Twitter. I would prefer that there be no threads because that becomes difficult to parse in the notifications in-box. So if you have something long, post it in the comments below. That said, please don’t go too long. Let’s keep it under 2000 words, shall we. I’m not going to count, but I’m also not promising to read a dissertation. Unless it’s really good!
If I receive something noteworthy, I’ll post it next week. If not, well, that’s fine too. I know you all are busy. But if you’ve read this far, then I’ve made you think about… midsummer.
the hour grows late
the hour grows late the blazing midsummer sun has set upon our revelries and spirits of the wild come forth some creep-cautious and careworn some roar-righteous and raging to claim warranted weregild our hour waxes long spring spent, summer waning and we curl around broken husks retraction, restitution, reconciliation we owe in despite of will, ineludible debts come due burning the airs, scalding the seas this score will be settled and they whisper intransigent incantations arresting this cancerous growth beginning implacable blood reckoning but we dance oblivious in this enfolding darkness e’en as we follow the spiral back to center the hour grows late our hour withers midsummer is past and the harvest approaches inexorably
©Elizabeth Anker 2021