Friday, August 26, 2005

Let evening come

My father just sent me this poem, and it seemed so appropriate for this time of year, and for knitting, and for so many things, I just had to share it:

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 the 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.


Zarzuela said...

Very nice. Too cool that your dad is published too!


Lee Ann said...

Jane Kenyon was an absolutely brilliant poet and a delightful woman. She was married to Donald Hall, also a wonderful poet, and they lived in New Hampshire, my home state. I like Jane's work better than Don's though :-) Unfortunately, Jane died of leukemia when she was only in her forties. This poem is one of her most well-known, and it is indeed gorgeous. I forgot about the needles and yarn in it...thanks for reminding me of her work.