While Visions of Sugar Plums Danced. . .

While Visions of Sugar Plums Danced. . .

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Biscuit

by Jane Kenyon
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.

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