Friday, October 16, 2009
The older I get, the more acutely I am aware of the passing of the seasons,
the passing of time,
and the passing of all things.
And so, I was moved by this short poem by Jane Kenyon who, it seems, never fails to move me.
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
(read the rest of the poem here.)
Laura Salas has the Poetry Friday round up today.