This short poem is about the
absolute trust of dogs.
The dog has cleaned his bowl
and his reward is a biscuit,
which I put in his mouth
like a priest offering the host.
I can't bear that trusting face!
He asks for bread, expects
bread, and I in my power
might have given him a stone.
from Otherwise: New and Selected Poems, 1996
University of Arkansas Press
Copyright 1996 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced with permission (click for permissions information).