tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32858616812937153112011-09-20T05:43:57.600-07:00Joyce Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11225084520420328606noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3285861681293715311.post-47544901367666055052007-06-01T05:42:00.000-07:002011-09-20T05:43:57.623-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />The way the dog trots out the front door<br />every morning<br />without a hat or an umbrella,<br />without any money<br />or the keys to her doghouse<br />never fails to fill the saucer of my heart<br />with milky admiration.<br /><br />Who provides a finer example<br />of a life without encumbrance—<br />Thoreau in his curtainless hut<br />with a single plate, a single spoon?<br />Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?<br /><br />Off she goes into the material world<br />with nothing but her brown coat<br />and her modest blue collar,<br />following only her wet nose,<br />the twin portals of her steady breathing,<br />followed only by the plume of her tail.<br /><br />If only she did not shove the cat aside<br />every morning<br />and eat all his food<br />what a model of self-containment she<br />would be,<br />what a paragon of earthly detachment.<br />If only she were not so eager<br />for a rub behind the ears,<br />so acrobatic in her welcomes,<br />if only I were not her god.<br /><br />Billy Collins<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3285861681293715311-4754490136766605505?l=corgiguyblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Joyce Deanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11225084520420328606noreply@blogger.com0