Pictures & Poetry II

i love trains. my fascination for trains goes all the way back to the days when i used to ride the commuter rail into Boston with my dad. faceless bodies shuffling past each other, departing and arriving, blurs of graffiti on passing buildings and tunnel walls, that sudden rush felt from the force of a train moving in the opposite direction. 

'Let Evening Come' by Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up with bales as 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 diet 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.