evening

[incandescens]

End of week. I have now completed two weeks in my new job, and am not yet regretting it. Go me.

(Well, okay, perhaps at 7 am when I'm getting out of bed in order to catch the bus to catch the train to get there on time, I have a few moments of why-did-I-think-this-was-a-good-idea. This is normal. I am not a morning person. I am not by any stretch of the imagination a morning person.)

My father's off to Guernsey, so my mother and I had a lazy evening, with me making duck with oyster sauce stirfry, and us eating it in front of the television. The weather had cooled off a bit by then, and the courgettes (zucchini) in the stirfry were fresh from the garden and beautifully tender, and everything was just right.

Damn; going over word count on current job. Bother and blast. Oh well, probably better to finish and then snip rather than to try to trim it back now.

---

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