Cheap Box Wine And Mount Caramulo Moonshine

fire up the grill

timid, still-green

cord wood

from fallen late-winter

pine

aided by

its own cones, dry

from months of sun

baking

wander behind the shed

find kindling,

scrap barn boards

from years gone by,

dry enough to burn

hot,

hot enough now

to cook

this mornings catch

fresh dinner,

slice down the stomach

rip out the guts

heads still attached,

grill em’ up whole

midnight snack

for dog and cat,

charred-black fish heads

gobbled down

by grateful pets,

then aguardienteĀ bottle

drained

and card game ending

but time for

one more game

and one more

box of wine

and a chocolate bar

for desert,

for a treat

that can’t be beat

then one last

glass of cheap red wine

as we watch the fire die

soaking up

the last bit of heat

as the light of the stars

overtakes the light

of the fire,

and up here

on this mountain

every little star

in the sky

shines,

and with light enough

from crescent moon

no flashlight is needed

as we walk down

to the camper van

just in time

to get the best night’s sleep

no money can buy…

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