In honor of a hopeful ending to an awful week, and in honor of peace within.
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.
So much to say about this poem, but I'll just stick to how I love that in the beginning, "let evening come" is the command kind of "let" as in "let there be light", and by the end, it has become the "allow it to happen" kind of "let"--we can let go of our fear and our need for control, we can relax and let what happens, happen, because Someone will take care of us. It's going to be okay.