. . . A stick-tendered

 

nest sits tip-top of this chimney. Osprey,

white-headed, flies off for the fetching

 

of fish from the Sound for her offspring.

Dives — yellow eyes sighting straight along

 

talons — snatches a striped bass, flies back

to red bricks, fired from this cliff.

Excerpt from August, Old Brickyard, Chilmark, by Kelly DuMar, published in “On the Seawall’

First thing, me and Charlie, eager and happy in our happiest place, we go out into the fresh, cloudy morning and head down the dirt driveway, then up the dirt road, then onto the Menemsha Hills trail of Trustees of Reservations, down the narrow, rocky dirt path, and through the trees to the beach. Vineyard Sound, the rocky shore and Charlie is in for a swim before I am on the last of the steps. We miss Suzi. But we have each other and this fine day and all this natural silence and solitude. We don’t meet another human or another dog. We walk and walk over the rocks at the edge of the shore. Strong smell of seaweed this morning. Clouds. The beach at high tide, a narrow walk. Gulls, cormorants. Clay cliffs. Beach wrack. Driftwood. Lobster traps. Heaven. Through the fresh water brook, Roaring Brook. To the Brickyard with the Osprey nest on top of the chimney, the one I wrote about in my poem, published a few months ago in On The Seawall: August, Old Brickyard, Chilmark. Inspired by a particular walk with my daughters in summer of 2020. After my long walk, well, I realize I am overtired today. And it rains. A good day to be overtired. In the Bunch of Grapes bookstore in Vineyard Haven I bump my arm on a bookshelf and later realize I have to ice it to get the swelling down. Just a silly injury that wakes me up to tell me, Kelly. Today is a day to take it easy. And I do. And that is pleasant. And Frank and I are alone all afternoon and evening. A quiet house. Just some rest and quiet. My daughter will be back tomorrow night. For now we just have long talks and togetherness. And rest.