Friday, November 4, 2011

Let the light of late afternoon shine through the chinks in the barn

May Turner Farm be wrapped in comfort and joy tomorrow and every day.

Let Evening Come

Let the light of 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 the long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to the 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

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do no tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

-- Wendell Berry


  1. Melissa,
    These are exactly what I needed tonight.

    It's impossible to sound sincere with a trite, "thank you," so I won't offer that. I will say, however, that it's nice to be "known." It's nice to see his life reflected in art. It's nice to have a community around me that cares.

    I appreciate this post so very much.

  2. I, too, appreciate not only these poems, but the fact that you thought of us. Thank you.

  3. For CLT, his girls, and the freshly painted barn that now proudly stands on the Turner Farm:

    Others have traveled up the winding drive more times than I
    Others have been privy to the creation of edifices on the hillside
    But I know where the spare key lives
    And I know the clink of the latch as it carefully shuts the door

    I have burst through the threshold
    eager to find the joy that resonates inside
    I have approached more quietly
    knowing of the grief that awaits

    But no matter whether filled with the fresh spring air or the crackle of a fire
    Abuzz with new romance or broken down heartache
    The delights of life, or even the deepest sorrows of death
    The sun is always shining on the Turner farm

    The light breaks through the clouds to reveal a most majestic house
    On the top of a hill
    At the end of a drive
    On the side of a road
    In a town so full of love you will never want to leave

    And in this home you can find laughter and graciousness and warmth
    Because in this home live the Turners
    And the sun is always shining on the Turner farm
    Because they are strong and full of joy
    Because they make it so