Thursday might
The height of mystery and chance
Gods gather the crops of their dance.
Within halls of universe
Harbingers travel
Telling of newborn hells
Of blazing beacons
That steer survival's Florence
Thursday might
The light of spirit's night
The shield of current's horse
Sad ones rejoice
In ***** of verse
Happy hops forth
To north of levity
Meanwhile the rotation journeys
Through the deep, dark
Marmalade matter
No telling what the disguise brings
But the next day's around the corner
Appearing more and more certain
At every turn of the clock
Time is soon Isabel
Pushing toward feminine Friday
Toward love, beauty and fertility
Leaving me lost in Thursday.