Entry 2: A placeholder

Jun 12

This site is new, so until there’s more content enjoy this beautiful poem about dogs by Billy Collins…

Species
by Billy Collins

I have no need for a biscuit,
a chew toy, or two bowls on a stand.
No desire to investigate a shrub
or sleep on an oval mat by the door,

but sometimes waiting at a light,
I start to identify with the blond Lab
with his head out the rear window
of the station wagon idling next to me.

And if we speed off together
and I can see his dark lips flapping
in the wind and his eyes closed
then I am sitting in the balcony of envy.

look at you, I usually say
when I see a terrier on a leash
trotting briskly along as if running
his weekday morning errands,

and I stop to stare at any dog
who is peering around a corner,
returning a ball to the thrower,
or staring back at me from a porch.

So early this morning
there was no avoiding a twinge
of jealousy for the young spaniel,
tide to a bench in the shade,

who was now wagging
not only his tail but the whole of himself
as a woman in a summer dress
emerged from the glass doors of the post office

then crouched down in front of him
taking his chin in her hand,
and said in a mock-scolding tone
"I told you I'd be right back, silly,"

leaving the dog to sit
and return her gaze with a look
of understanding which seemed to say
"I know. I know. I never doubted that you would."

Entry 3: He won’t stop playing