Is not like midnight in Colorado.
It’s dark, of course, same stars.
But the air here has a weight
that holds me—as if it’s been having
a long conversation with me
since before I arrived, as if it knows me.
I have come with my arms too full.
The night asks me to set down
whatever I have brought,
to hold it the way it holds me.
I breathe into the night
only to find it is breathing me.