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.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 2210 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Jane Kenyon
Poem: Biscuit
Volume: Otherwise: New and Selected Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1996
Poem of the Day: Nov 4 2005
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