Friday, August 9, 2013

let evening come

Let Evening Come 
by Jane Kenyon 
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.


  1. When you put it that way, how could anyone be afraid? I'd love to watch the wild flowers lay themselves down and then rise up early in the morning....

  2. I was wishing to revisit this poem, but too distracted to look it up. And now here it is. Thank you, Ruth.


Welcome. If you would like to say something, rest assured that I will respond in my self, even if I do not respond in word.