Open the window to anonymous night
night of no real season or setting
night with a grove of slender trees
lit by a fingernail arc of moon
night of momentous silence
silken air

Not night of drab everyday reality
not night sounding shriek and blare
of traffic
not night fighting fist/knife/gun
in shadows

Expect to learn a wondrous thing
moths at the window bearing messages
glory and gore equally within your grasp
a crowd of intimate strangers whose names
you nearly know
a chance to be other than you are

Decide if you want this night this dream
know that if it wants to come it comes
you cannot turn it away cannot
say no