I've had lots of encouragement the past few weeks to let the darkness in--Emily's gift to me of Barbara Brown Taylor's book Learning to Walk in the Dark, images of birth, incubation, hibernation. And just the physical fact of the sun setting at 4:30, everything slowing down, and all the lights in our neighborhood able to shine only because of the dark.
These postings have given me occasion to go back to many favorite poems. They are like bread and water, keeping me more alive all these years. This one is from Jane Kenyon.
Let Evening Come
Let the light of the late afternoon
shine through the 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.