“These are tempestuous times,” she said
And her strong hands wrung the laundered sheets
To squeeze out suds
As she would want
To push out infiltrated evil.
“I’ve seen hardship before,” she stirred
In the boiling vat,
Simmering the despair
Till it foamed and evaporated
Into bleached hope.
“Wrong does not last,” she rinsed
Till it fluttered
Only the barest of stains
In the sun.
Merriam-Webster’s word for July 30, 2018:
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