Evening

The snail gives off stillness.
The weed is blessed.
At the end of a long day
The man finds joy, the water peace.

Let all be simple. Let all stand still
Without a final direction.
That which brings you into the world
To take you away at death
Is one and the same;
The shadow long and pointy
Is its church.

At night some understand what the grass says.
The grass knows a word or two.
It is not much. It repeats the same word
Again and again, but not too loudly.

Simic, Charles. What the Grass Says: Poems. United States, Kayak Press, 1969.

Why I chose this poem

It's a full moon tonight, a time of release.  And also, I just adore this presentation of shadow. Shadow, between birth and death, the church of life.