The Shepherd waits,
still as stone,
eyes tracing every shadow,
a silent sentinel.
The Pitty spins,
a blur of muscle and joy,
bounding, twisting, leaping,
never still, never silent.
One watches, one moves—
both living from the same heart: the heart of our pack.
“Because of the dog’s joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift.”
– Mary Oliver
