Mandrake
the dog is keening
fasting to lean
senses sharpened from
the smell of the field.
lifting her head
the movement slight
in the wavering light
and not noticed.
the man is scheming
fattening to ripe
senses blunted early
to the fetid furrows.
stamping his feet
the movement thudded
in the black earth mudded
with strange imprints.
the low whistle
brings her to stance
his compulsive call
while scanning his crop.
the rattle of the chain
propels him to watch
her offbeat gait,
her quickening heart.
he resigns to the task
her doe eyes reflecting
greens and yellows..
the ending contrasting.
This is beautiful, and so sad somehow.
I agree that it does have a sad tone to the wording, but it is nonetheless impressive my dear.