chuba

just an fyi - this soothes when little else does. the sort of wholesome/provincial-ness is somehow the right butter for my burn.
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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.

- Jane Kenyon

i read your 2 part india thing. it's hard for me to focus, but i did my best! i'm glad there's dialogue, which grounds it. you definitely have your own voice, which is key. watch the hyperbole. remember to "show, don't tell" whenever possible, however trite that order may be. i didn't enjoy it as i normally would have, because my brain is truly scrambled in a way that i can't explain, but that's beside the point. i know you have talent, you know it, keep writing. oh, i love the very last line.

wish i could offer more, but i can't. consider my honesty a compliment.