One thing about writing a daily blog entry is that I’m never really sure what will capture my interest on any given day. Of all the things churning around in my head, what one topic will get the nod.
Today, I woke up thinking about the fact that I was meeting my friend, JoAnn, this afternoon to go to a book release party at Titcomb’s Bookshop. I thought that I might blog about the importance of independent bookstores and how few there are left. When I went to Titcomb’s website to confirm the time, I saw that they had signed copies of Mary Oliver’s Dog Songs for sale. Mary Oliver currently lives in Provincetown. Titcomb’s is really good about promoting Cape authors.
Interestingly enough, our copy of Dog Songs was on the table by my chair. I truly love this collection of poems. Mary Oliver’s insight into the minds of dogs and the people who share their lives is sometimes startling, often poignant and always genuine.
One poem, in particular, spoke to me this morning.
Percy, Waiting For Ricky
Your friend is coming, I say
to Percy and name a name.
and he runs to the door, his
wide mouth in its laugh-shape,
and waves, since he has one, his tail.
Emerson, I am trying to live,
as you said we must, the examined life.
But there are days I wish
there was less in my head to examine
not to speak of the busy heart. How
would it be to be Percy, I wonder, not
thinking, not weighing anything, just running forward.