since it's sunday an' all . . .
LET EVENING COME
by Jane Kenyon (a lovely writer, RIP - not me)
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.
---------------------------------------
(still, fingers crossed . . . <3, k)
LET EVENING COME
by Jane Kenyon (a lovely writer, RIP - not me)
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.
---------------------------------------
(still, fingers crossed . . . <3, k)
Calmness becomes it's own measure.
How sane, and falsely reassuring.
But not as it is, as a Prayer.
And here you are going back to your old boyfriend.
You only gave me a moment to act
and it turned out to be not enough.
I'm still flirting anyway.
My lovers are those that hear me.
Everything else should be free.
Drago D