He watches, the dog
Ears erect, muscles tense
Ready to bound.
He cringes
From the outstretched hand
Beyond reach of its potential pain.
Fearful, they say, with scorn.
Frightened of everything.
Fearful, he is
As are the birds
And all wild things
That peer wide-eyed
Through the tall grasses
And slip into the shadows
At the heavy sound
Of a human footfall.
Wary, he is
Of the outstretched hand
Of the hidden stick, the knife or rope.
He knows, the dog
The infinite variety
Of human brutality.
A bit of info
Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 