Let the sunshine of late afternoon
shine by way of chinks within the barn, moving
up the bales because the solar moves down.
Let the cricket take up chafing
as a girl takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let night come.
Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in lengthy grass. Let the celebrities show up
and the moon reveal her silver horn.
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black within. Let evening come.
To the bottle in the ditch, to the inside track
in the oats, to air within the lung
let evening come.
Let it come, as it is going to, and don't
be afraid. God does not depart us
comfortless, so let evening come.
Thanks for sharing your time on my blog
I remain my humble self @popson.