Martha's Vineyard Portrait #2
We ask the women
if we could pet their dog.
Her name is Mia, a mix:
Border Collie and Jack Russell.
She tears a track around the bench
as we chat. I think
they must be sisters. One lives here
year round with the dog.
The other, only summers.
Neil changes lenses
with a certain hand. He wanders
down the beach
searches for better light. Small skiffs
tug at their moorings. Gnats dance
in the gloaming.
Mia settles down, leans
against my leg, hopeful.
I scratch the soft fur
beneath her chin, the feathers
that line her wide chest.
One sister tells me
about a mystery writer who lives
nearby. "Good summer reading," she says.
"You can see his house when the trees thin."
The other sister grips Mia's leash,
looks across the pond.
Two geese glide
across the glassy surface. One
has a foot tucked up beside its wing.
I wonder if it's broken. Mia ignores
the birds, rolls on her back in the sandy soil.
Neil finishes a roll of film,
packs his cameras away.
We say our goodbyes.
While we walk, I invent
their story. Wonder
if I could survive the winter here.
In the distance,
Mia trots happily between them, unconcerned.