Let Evening Come
by Jane Kenyon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.