Nothing Much to Report Tonight
Just the light from the
moon’s 100 watt bulb, shining
through the trees, and the
wine and weed just now starting
to open up some
of the parameters of
perception, a bit
(to help facilitate the
free-flowing exchange
of thoughts and ideas). Just
the river gurgling
out the latest news from the
outside world (even
though we know it’s old news by
the time it reaches
us). Just this signal of a
wood fire beaming out
like a beacon in the night
to guide lost souls home
from their various tragi-
comic odysseys
and mis-adventures. Just the
dogs off in the woods
calling out for their long lost
distant cousins, the
coyotes, to come out and make
some noise while the stars
are shining. Just the distant
horn of a semi-
truck coming in from out there
on the highway, past
the hills on the horizon
(causing the cattle
to stir, briefly, from their sleep),
and then it’s gone. Just like that.
Jason Ryberg lives part-time in Kansas City, MO with a rooster named Little Red and a Billy-goat named Giuseppe, and part-time somewhere in the Ozarks, near the Gasconade River, where there are also many strange and wonderful woodland critters.
Chantarelle's Notebook 