Happy 13th Anniversary, Poem of the Month!
In honor of the years, a spare poem that blesses sentient beings and other forms – a bottle, a hoe, a shed. Kenyon’s poem doesn’t argue with time’s passage, but rather is a meditation on intimacy with life as it is. May you find solace here.
Let Evening Come
Let the light of late afternoon
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 dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.
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.
By Jane Kenyon, from Collected Poems.
Copyrighted material; for therapeutic/educational purposes only.
Image from Anthony Wilson’s website: The Year of Living Deeply