…a thoughtful reader sent this hauntingly beautiful poem of Jane Kenyon’s,
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.
Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come….
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.
Let it come, as it will, and don’t be
afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless… so let evening come.”
Lord, let evening and the dark come.
We slip our hand into Yours.
Photos: twilight falling across our farm
Related: Online poetry of Jane Kenyon
Let Evening Come
Otherwise: New and Selected Poems
Collected Poems
Boat of Quiet Hours
May your weekend be one of rest, reflection, and blessed renewal…
