Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The healing kind

Needless to say, I am very into my dog right now. 3 posts in one month about the same yellow mutt? Sorry...I just can't help myself. This week especially, she's never off of my mind. Those eyes...those ears! Breaks your freakin' heart. Actually no...this poem does.


by Billy Collins

The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose, 
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager 
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.

Think good thoughts for Sandee this week. An aliment has left her hurt up for a while...healing thoughts, safe thoughts. Many thanks.

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