A whipped dog, Head down, Eyes, lowered, Ears back, Haunches drawn Dreams the wolf-- Sharp weapons of tooth and claw, Armor of hide and fur, Heart of a free, wild warrior. A dream of the lone wolf, Who may find comfort Here or there For a season. Then moves onward alone Before what will come As the whipped dog knows, Always, always does.
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Hearing The Mermaids Sing 
My daughter fosters rescue dogs, and this poem made me think of them – wish I could step inside their world and understand – the trauma is palpable.
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I volunteer at a rescue group myself and have felt like a whipped dog at times. So when I watched one dog just cower in the outside area this week, this peice just came into my mind.
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Very moving.
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Thank you
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Welcome!
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