A windy, cold, autumn dusk

between the Snowy Range and the

Laramie Range.

The bright lights of the stadium

shine over a writhing sea of

brown and gold.

It’s been a long time since I’ve

felt like I was a part of something —

a community optimistic for a

common purpose.

We stand with the crowd —

our own roars and applause

lost in the cacophony of

blessings and curses.

In the twilight, we are warmed

by brats, hot cocoa, and victory.