The Chariot

Jennifer Highland

In the low sweet evening.
In the purple evening.
In the evening that slides like a glove
     over the sky’s pale palm.
In the carry me home evening.
In the rosepetal evening.
In the listening evening, the speechless evening.
In the coming for evening.
In the waiting evening.
In the suffocating evening.
In the evening of light every candle—but
     that comes later.
In the heavy evening.
In the chest-rattling evening.
In the evening of lifting up and laying down.
In the almost evening.
In the breathless evening.
In the breath-less evening.
In the sing low evening, oh swing low, swing low.
In the evening that circles and settles
     but does not sleep.