Leadfeather Posted January 17, 2018 Share Posted January 17, 2018 This weekend I spent time purging books from my shelves. Many of them were Christine’s and covered topics she was passionate about. Interior design, genealogy, painting. In a small way handling and giving away those books felt like saying goodbye again. This morning I found a poem that feels the same. 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 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
BrokenHeart2 Posted January 17, 2018 Share Posted January 17, 2018 Thanks LF, that was beautiful. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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