and they’re off
The chunk of moon
remaining this morning,
cracked by leafless oaks,
swallowing meteors
with her dusty oceans
pushes hopefully
against the morningstar.
Colt kicks, flashing hooves
& hope against
the young face of death,
circled by a black track.
2 thoughts on "and they’re off"
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Rick Flair “WoooOOO!”
I missed the races this spring–thank goodness there is a fall meet… I like your words here…