Monday, September 20, 2010

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.

-- Jane Kenyon

By the way, guess who ran off again this morning and didn't come back for an hour? Guess who's getting a shock collar? Oh, that's right! The dogs who, paradoxically, won't let me go to the outhouse unattended, who move two feet to the North if I move two feet to the North, who attend me back and forth to unload groceries, who stare at me with slavish, adoring eyes while I sit on the couch reading. Oh yes, those super-devoted dogs! Them's the ones! All of a sudden, approximately every couple of months, with no warning. ZIP! They're gone and don't come back for up to several hours!

Well, no more of this! Shock collars for them!

1 comment:

MP said...

Oooh shock collars... I have a 16" neck btw, I can't wait! It'll be more enjoyable than the slap game without a doubt. :)