Two dogs live for a trip to their river beach
To dig in the sand, leave their mark
And be happy
Chase ravens and gulls
Fish for tiny sculpins and pounce
On the glint of wave and water
Stretch out in the sun side by side
Listen to the buoy bell ring and
surf licking the shore
Rain spread circles in the puddles
Left from the receding tide
A place of bliss where the world is new
With Every pull of the turning moon
Noses to the sky and wind from the west
Carrying the scent of elk herd and field mice
Rotting detritus and kelp,
Burnt marshmallows and stale beer
Filling their heads with an unquenchable thirst
To follow their oh so clever noses.
The black dog is always in the lead and the spotted one
Follows behind, their tails beating time
With the music that only they can hear.
Jennifer Nightingale lives in Astoria with her husband, Holt, and dog, Mickey, and found community among the writers, musicians and artists of the Lower Columbia Pacific and North Oregon Coast. For ten years, they’ve walked River Beach at Fort Stevens and picked up beer cans, lost shoes and bits of plastic.
