“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
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.
Last year, Mike and I celebrated the made-up holiday of candletime during the month of November. It’s just a silly little thing, to light candles and savor your drink by their glow, but it ended up being special and we have looked forward to it throughout September and October. The church calendar also winds down in November, the waiting before the waiting of Advent. It feels right to sit in the calm and quiet as the old year passes away.
Today is the beginning of candletime as well as All Saints’ day. It’s a good day to light candles, to embrace both the darkness as well as the light, to remember. That candletime is finally upon us is what is saving my life this week.