Hear the whinnies of victors to be
The thundering heart of a beast beneath you
The deep grunts and snorts emitted from flaring nostrils
Tributaries of sweat trickling along the chest
And down the dancing legs of an unnamed champion.
He feels the dense mane between his gloved fingers,
Gripping the reins tightly as if somehow he could tame,
One of these wild spirits of the wind.
Feel the heat rising from the horses’ sleek bodies,
The sun pouring across a damp soil path,
Where history has yet to be made.
Thick rounded ears rotate, listening to a buzzing fly
The jockey gets shifted forward as he stamps his back hoof in irritation
Soft chocolate brown eyes focus on the futuristic finish line
The smell of excitement wreathing around him
Kindling a fire that has yet to burst
The trumpet sounds and the gate springs back
A deep smile across the Jockey’s face
He twists the whip in his hand and whispers…
Let ‘er fly